Boy Meets Boy
by pandorad24
Summary: - Boy falls in love with boy, boy loses boy, boy gets boy back... A story we've all heard before, right? Iggy/male OC, oneshot - may add epilogue.


**UGH. You have no idea how long this has taken me. This thing has been on the books for MONTHS, people. For those I made the mistake of telling when I started this project, I really do apologize - it's just, you know, moving. And procrastination. Yeah. Also, since it was written over such a long time span, there are some parts I'm more happy with than others, so I'm sorry if it reads a bit patchy. /:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. That should be fairly obvious.**

**Hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p><em>Boy Meets Boy<em>

* * *

><p>When Dr. Martinez first suggested it, I was fully prepared to pack my bags and return to a life of dumpster diving. However, after weeks of persuading, Max finally relented.<p>

The flock was enrolled back in school. Angel and Gazzy were attending the local elementary school for first and third grade, respectively, Nudge went to the middle school for seventh, and Max, Iggy and I were going into our freshman year. High school was a nightmare at first, but by two thirds of our way through the year we were settled in and confident that we knew our way around. We even had our share of friends; in fact, Max and I were pretty popular.

I was currently sitting in class, stealing glances at Max out of the corner of my eye as our Algebra teacher droned on about inequalities and graphs and other crap that I couldn't be less interested in. When the bell finally rang for lunch, I scooped up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, waiting for Max in the doorway.

"What an inspiring lesson," Max commented sarcastically as she joined me, and we made our way down the hall together. "I'm positively enlightened. Don't you agree, F-Nick?"

I smirked. Max still needed some work on remembering my school alias. She corrected herself just in time, because a moment later a couple of our friends, Damon and Veronica, had just fallen into step beside us.

"Hey, lovebirds," Veronica greeted us, throwing her arm around Max's shoulders. "Where you kids headed? Room 118?" She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Room 118 was an unused classroom. Some stories had circulated about a junior hooking up with one of the teachers there the year before, but most students were convinced that the particular junior had made up the rumor herself; from what I had heard, she had always been a bit of a slut.

Max blushed and scowled, but I retorted, "Maybe." Damon laughed.

The cafeteria was filled with a dull roar of chatting students. Iggy had made us all lunch the previous night, so we immediately found our seats at our usual table, where a few other friends were waiting for us. Max got into a discussion with Veronica and a couple other girls about an upcoming class trip, and Damon started telling me about some funny YouTube video he had watched. I glanced across the cafeteria, and caught sight of Iggy sitting at a less crowded table near the back, laughing at something one of his friends had said.

Whereas Max and I had become acquainted with some of the most popular freshman at the beginning of the year, Iggy had made friends with some... well, as Damon put it, "freaks". There were a couple kids with very colorful hair, a Muslim girl with scarves over her head, a guy that seemed normal at first glance but had wrists littered with scars, another girl that was constantly picked on for having a stutter... And, there was one more boy that Iggy seemed to hang out with the most. Something was definitely weird about him - he wore tight skinny jeans and had perfectly straightened hair, with a slender, almost feminine build. In my opinion, he was just a little too pretty to be a legitimate guy.

Of course, it was none of my business who Iggy chose to hang out with, but I couldn't help but wish he would find some other friends. If he kept this up, he was certain to get made fun of.

"Dude, what're you staring at them for?" Damon asked, inclining his head toward Iggy's table. "Their freak disease might rub off on you."

"Those are my brother's friends," I reminded him.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, man, but he's gone," Damon said, shaking his head disgustedly at the table. "Look, he's probably being molested by that creep Hayes as we speak."

"What?"

"He's a fag," Damon scoffed. "Like, literally."

So the boy was gay. The title pretty much earned him freak-status to top all the others by default. Though, through very brief interactions and personal observation, I realized that besides the way he looked, he wasn't really that effeminate - I probably wouldn't have made the connection if Damon hadn't pointed it out. Of course, that was hardly a factor - whether he was a total powder-puff or not, he still liked guys, the thought of which particularly made me want to puke.

"And," Damon continued in a muffled voice, his mouth stuffed with a bite of his sloppy homemade sandwich, "by the looks of it, your bro has gotten pretty friendly with him as of late. Is there something you need to ask him, Nick?"

"Like what?" I asked, annoyed by the implication.

"Oh, I don't know," Damon replied sarcastically. "Maybe something like, is he screwing with Connor Hayes?"

I rolled my eyes. "James isn't gay."

Damon put his hands up in a mock defensive gesture. "Whatever you say, man. But, if I were you, I would put a close watch on him for now on."

As lunch ended, I walked to my next class alone, thinking about what Damon had said. Could it be possible that Iggy was anything but straight? This was the guy that asked to be given descriptions of hot girls whenever we went to the beach, and told perverted jokes about Max and I at every opportunity. Honestly, his sexuality was something I had never questioned - it seemed quite obvious to me. No, Iggy wasn't gay. And that was that.

I arrived at my English class, one that I had with Iggy so I could help with the writing. However, when I took a seat at my desk, I realized that he wasn't beside me. _He must be late_, I reasoned. He had probably gotten lost again on his way to class; he would show up soon enough.

But he didn't. Twenty minutes came and went, and still no sign of Iggy. I was starting to feel worried. Where the heck was he? He had never gotten this lost before.

I reluctantly raised my hand. "Ms. Grubbs?" I said, calling the attention of my teacher. She paused in her enthusiastic evaluation of a novel the class was reading to look up at me.

"Yes, Nick?" She asked with a smile. "Do you have a question about the book?"

"Uh, not about the book, no," I replied. "I was wondering if I could be excused to look for James. I think he might have gotten lost."

A few students snickered, and Ms. Grubbs shot them a look that made them shut up pretty quick. She turned back to me and nodded. "That's fine," she said. "Take a pass, please."

Hall pass in hand, I made my way past the rows of lockers in search of Iggy. I knew he wouldn't have gone upstairs, so when I didn't see him in any of the first-level halls, I checked the bathrooms. Nothing. Growing increasingly anxious, I began to scour the halls again, when my enhanced ears picked up low voices behind a classroom door. Coming closer to investigate, my heart skipped a beat with a sudden realization; this was Room 118.

I grinned. So, _this_ was where Iggy had gotten "lost" to. He probably ditched class to make out with some girl. I wondered who it could be - the chick that sat at his table with the crazy rainbow streaks in her hair was pretty cute, I decided. Smirking deviously, I crept closer to the door in order to make out what they were saying.

_"We should head back."_ I heard Iggy's muffled voice say. _"Nick's probably wondering where I am. He can get pretty paranoid."_

_"Let him worry,"_ said someone else, and I was surprised at how, well, distinctly _un_-female their voice sounded. Maybe the girl had a cold, I rationalized.

Iggy laughed softly. _"We can't stay in here all day, Connor."_

My heart leapt up to my throat. If I'd just heard correctly, Iggy had skipped class to be alone in a dark room with a _dude_, who Damon had accused of being gay. Feeling sick to my stomach, I threw open the door to reveal a scene I never wanted to witness.

Iggy and a brown-haired boy that was nearly as skinny as his jeans, Connor Hayes, were sitting together on the vacant teacher's desk... kissing.

It wasn't exactly a heated make-out session, and everyone still had their clothes on; but that didn't matter. All that mattered at that moment was that Iggy was kissing a _guy_, and seemed quite content about it, I might add.

This kind of thing didn't belong in my world. In _my_ world, my brothers were straight, the way it should be. It just made sense. This was totally wrong. And I wasn't going to stand for it.

_"What the heck is going on here?"_ I shouted fiercely, and the boys abruptly broke apart and turned to me in alarm. Even in the dark, I could see Iggy pale visibly as he recognized my voice, taking on an unnatural pallid shade. Connor Hayes flushed pink.

"F-Fang, I... I..." Iggy stuttered, alias completely forgotten. "I can explain."

I was outraged. "Oh, you can _explain_," I spat patronizingly. "Well then, explain it to me, Iggy. Tell me your nice little story. Be sure to start from the beginning, I think I might have missed the finer points - like exactly when you started being freaking queer!"

"F-Nick, please, I just -"

"Just shut up, Iggy!" I yelled furiously. "Just shut your mouth! I don't want to hear a single freaking one of your excuses, okay!"

"Hey, just calm down," Connor Hayes said, a hint of an edge in his voice. "There's no need to start blowing up over this."

"Don't give me that crap, fag," I hissed venomously. "You're the one that corrupted him!"

"Nick, stop!" Iggy said, clenching his fists. "He didn't _corrupt_ me. You can't blame him for that."

"Yeah?" I retorted. "Then who do I blame, Iggy? Tell me, I'm just dying to know!"

"I don't know, _Nick_," Iggy replied. "You think we chose to be like this? It's not like I just woke up one morning and decided, 'hey, you know, I think it might be fun to be gay'."

"I never expected this," I said coldly. "I never imagined you could be like... like _him_." I jabbed a finger pointedly in Connor's direction. "A little fag! Is that what you want to be, Iggy? A gay, freaking faggot?"

Iggy looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you," he murmured bitterly, a trace of hurt underlying every syllable. "Figures, that you of all people would think of me as a freak."

Without another word, he strode past me into the hall and headed off in the direction of the bathrooms. Connor Hayes shot me a wary, angry look and sped off after him. _Probably to go make out with him in a stall_, I thought disgustedly.

This was all /his/ fault. That idiot queer had done this to Iggy, had messed with his head somehow. Convinced him that he was gay so he would have a face to suck on in this school, was that it? I was going to murder the little creep.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice was telling me to calm down, that I was overreacting. But this was _Iggy_ we're talking about - hardcore blind bird-kid that blew stuff up and drooled over girls - not some freaking pansy!

_Damon was right_, I thought bitterly. _I have lost him._ And for now, I had no intentions of getting him back. I was done; Iggy and his little boyfriend could fend for themselves.

* * *

><p>I was stony and silent for the remainder of the day. Max asked me what was wrong, but I refused to tell her - she wouldn't believe me anyway. I avoided Iggy at all costs, and he didn't seem to want to acknowledge me, either. Sometimes I would catch his eye, and he would look sad, or hurt, or just plain angry. I ignored him; let the faggot feel whatever he wants, he wouldn't be getting any sympathy from me.<p>

Maybe I was being harsh. Maybe I was taking my own petty biases to the extreme, and I should just learn to get over it, because Iggy was my brother and my best friend and he needed my support. But, the fact was that I felt betrayed; Iggy was supposed to know better, he was supposed to be a good boy and like girls. What would the guys at school say, if word got out that I had a gay brother?

I was furious with Iggy. How could he do this to the flock? As if he weren't singled out enough for his blindness, now he had to be queer, too? How could he do this to _me_? I shouldn't have to deal with this!

"Fang," Dr. Martinez said gently as we sat around the table eating dinner that night. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I grumbled, continuing to pick moodily at my food.

"You're awfully quiet," she observed. "Did something happen at school?"

"I said nothing's wrong, alright?" I snapped, and immediately regretted it - Dr. M meant well, I knew. I just had a bad habit of taking my frustration out on everyone in my path.

"He's been like this since after lunch," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure. It's probably just one of his emo things."

I glared at her from across the table. _Emo_, I thought, _that's a load of crap_. I wasn't one of _those_ kids, like Iggy's friend with the cuts on his arm. They were freaks - I was normal.

A realization hit me with a pang, and I suddenly felt uncomfortably aware of the wings pressed against the back of my chair. I _wasn't_ normal - I had _wings_, for Pete's sake!

_But that's not my fault_, I thought snidely. I didn't chose to be mutated when I was a baby, but those other kids made the decision to be depressed and resort to cutting themselves; and to be gay. They just wouldn't admit it.

As I lay awake in bed that night, I wondered how things were going to change, and what life would be like now that I knew Iggy was gay. I got the horrible feeling that today was just the start of our friendship drifting - or perhaps tearing violently - apart.

* * *

><p>The following day at school was no better than the last. Classes with Iggy were tense and awkward, and Max didn't help matters by asking me what was wrong throughout our shared periods. At lunch, I couldn't stop throwing glances toward the back of the cafeteria, where Iggy and Connor Hayes were holding hands inconspicuously under the table.<p>

The day hit rock bottom when Damon approached me during our free period, an uncharacteristic dark scowl on his face. He was flanked by several other guys, who I vaguely recognized as some of his football friends; he was one of the youngest guys on the JV team, but he was still pretty popular amongst his teammates.

"What's up?" I asked, slightly unnerved.

"What's up? I think you know what," Damon replied. "For your information," he said, a strangely malicious note in his voice, "Brent here -" he gestured to a guy next to him, "heard something very interesting in the bathroom yesterday."

"Yeah?" I said warily.

"He said," Damon continued, "that while he was in one of the stalls, he heard two guys come in, and they started chatting it up about their lovely little homo relationship. They were arguing about whether or not to break it off because _someone_ found out they were together. Have any idea who those two guys might be?"

I felt sick. He _knew_. They all knew. Crap, I was so screwed...

Damon didn't even bother to wait for an answer. "It was that pansy Connor Hayes and... James Martinez. Sound familiar, Nick?"

I grit my teeth. "Look, you were right, okay?" I said tensely. "If you came over here to tell me 'I told you so', then go right ahead."

"Come on, Nick," Damon said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm your friend, right? I'm not going to patronize you. What I _am_ going to do is make you an offer."

I was a bit taken aback. "Huh?" I said intelligently.

"Let me ask you a question; are you okay with the fact that your brother is gay?"

"No," I answered immediately.

"Well," Damon continued, "you know who's responsible for it, don't you? It's all because of that faggot Connor. He _tricked_ James. He was the only queer in this school, and he wanted himself a screw-toy, so he preyed on the poor, helpless blind kid. We've gotta teach him a lesson, Nick."

I bit my lip. I couldn't deny that's exactly what I'd been thinking - I was convinced that Connor was somehow responsible for all this.

"Me and my boys can take care of it, Nick," Damon said persuasively. "We can get revenge. All you have to do is make sure that he's with you under the bleachers tomorrow after school - we'll take care of the rest."

I took a minute to think it over. Normally, I didn't let anyone fight my battles for me, but I had to admit... Damon's offer was tempting. I mean, if Max found out _I_ had hurt some kid at school, she'd kick my butt into next Tuesday. But, if Damon and those other guys took care of it, I could get off scot-free.

Looking back up at Damon, I saw the exited gleam in his eyes, and decided that I wasn't going to get another opportunity like this; if I wanted revenge on that punk Connor, now was the time to do it.

"Okay," I said, nodding. "It's a deal."

Damon grinned. "There's a good boy," he said, clapping me on the back. "That fag's finally going to get what's coming to him."

* * *

><p>Iggy<p>

* * *

><p>After school, I told the flock I was going to a friend's house to study. Max was skeptical at first, but after gently reminding her that I lacked the ability to read and asking her if she wanted to go over a few chapters of my History textbook with me instead, she hastily shooed me off to go wherever I pleased. Fang was silent as I climbed into Connor's older sister's car.<p>

Connor's sister was the only one (besides Fang, now) that knew about our relationship, and she was cool with it, so Connor and I were okay getting cozy in the back seat. He snuggled up against my chest and wrapped his arms around my middle; he made a content little sigh, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, you're certainly cuddly today," I observed amusedly.

"Hmph," came his muffled reply.

I ran my fingers through his hair absentmindedly, listening to his gentle breathing. I wondered if he was still upset from yesterday - he usually wasn't this clingy.

During our conversation in the bathroom, he surprised me by admitting he was afraid of losing me... He told me that he had faced myriad rejection when he first 'came out', and that I shouldn't give up on the relationship just because things were starting to get complicated. It would be hard, he said, and I was guaranteed to get hurt, but it would be worth it in the end if I just saw this thing through.

So I decided to trust him. I was a little scared of how things would go with Fang, but I wasn't giving up on Connor yet. As cheesy as this sounds, he just... made me happy. He was like a best friend when he needed to be, and a great boyfriend through everything else. If I was going to tough this thing out, I was taking him with me, and Fang couldn't tell me otherwise.

When we pulled into Connor's driveway, I could hear his bulldog barking faintly from inside, and neighborhood kids running around with each other in the cool March breeze. I would get to stay a long time that day, since Mr. and Mrs. Hayes were out of town. They were Catholic, and didn't think too well of homosexuals; in fact, they were on the verge of kicking Connor out of the house as it was. Seeing me with him would just push them over the edge, so we had to be careful.

The dog greeted us at the door, licking our shins persistently until we bent down to pet him. Connor immediately headed into the kitchen to throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, while I got settled on the couch. We were going to have a scary movie marathon, and would be completely disregarding our homework, of course. Hey, with the limited amount of dates we got, there was no way we were going to spend our time studying.

The movies were great. Connor described every gory detail to me and we laughed together at the freakiest parts (I didn't exactly care to invest my time in a bunch of sappy romance flicks any more than the next guy, and I was glad that Connor felt the same). We ended up tossing the remainder of the popcorn at each other and leaving the dog to eat up the mess while we had a little make out session on the couch.

It was a great day.

It was over all too quickly, however, when Connor's sister came in to announce that their parents would be home soon. We clambered back into the car, and went to drop me off at Dr. Martinez's. I dreaded what was waiting for me at home, and Connor must have sensed this, because he squeezed my hand for support. "Everything will be fine, James," he said reassuringly. "He'll probably get over it... Eventually."

"And if he doesn't?" I asked, surprised by the anxious tone in which the words came out.

"Then you're screwed," he replied simply. "But you've got me, right?"

I grinned. "Yeah, I do have you."

"And, just think," he continued, "if worst comes to worst, I'll smuggle us to Canada to live happily ever after amongst the beavers. Nothing bad ever happens in Canada."

I laughed. "No, I guess not."

"Exactly," Connor said brightly, giving me an affectionate goodbye kiss on the cheek as we pulled up at Dr. M's. "Now just relax, it'll be fine."

"Thanks, Connor."

* * *

><p>Of course, it was just my luck that I ended up at home with no one but Fang and Angel for company that night while the rest of the flock went off to do some last-minute grocery shopping. I knew that if Fang and I were going to get into another fight, now would be the time; it didn't matter that Angel was there, she'd known all along about my little secret, she was just sweet enough to keep it to herself.<p>

We all just kind of sat around the living room in awkward silence; the tension in the air was practically tangible. Finally, Fang said in a tone of forced calm, "So, Iggy, how was your _study _date with your _friend_?"

I kept my head down and my voice casual, trying any means to avoid conflict this time. "It was fine," I replied evenly.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"What did you guys do?" He persisted, and I could hear him shift to lean closer to me. "Just read out of the textbook, right? Had the house all to yourself, I'm sure. Did you decide to make things more comfortable and move your little study group to his bed?"

I grit my teeth in frustration. "No," I answered shortly.

"I guess the floor just had to do, then," he said, and I could imagine the vicious smirk on his face. "Kind of an unconventional way to _study_ - though I suppose that makes it all the more fitting, doesn't it?"

I snapped. "Just shut up, Fang, okay?" I said angrily. "We didn't do anything. We never have."

"Really?" Fang said, giving up the nonchalant act. "I didn't think it would take this long. I guess he's being careful, playing his cards right, until he decides he has you convinced enough."

"Convince me of what?" I demanded. "I've known I was gay for years before I met Connor!"

"That's just what he wants you to think!" Fang retorted.

"You're clueless, Fang!" I said. "Stop acting like you have all the answers, because you don't have a single freaking idea! I know you think Connor's taking advantage of me, but if you really must know, _I_ was the one that asked _him_ out first."

"I can't believe you don't see the way he's _using_ you!" Fang said exasperatedly. "Even a _blind_ guy should be able to tell when he's being manipulated. No _guy_ could ever love you properly!"

"Fang," said Angel's tentative voice from across the room, and we both turned to her in surprise; I'd almost forgotten she was there. "I think you should listen to Iggy," she said. "Way before we started going to school, he was having thoughts about liking boys - about when you started thinking about Max that way. Besides," she continued brightly, "Connor's really nice! Whenever it's Iggy's turn to walk me home after school, Connor usually comes with him, and he always brings me stuff from his lunch! Last time he shared some strawberries with me. He's nice, so he couldn't be manipulating anyone like that. Besides, I was reading his mind, and he was thinking a bunch of cute thoughts about how much he loved Iggy."

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest. Connor loved me? We had never said it out loud, and even though I felt like it was just an unspoken thing between us, it was still an incredible feeling to _know_ that he felt that way. I couldn't help but grin to myself.

"You're just overreacting, Fang," Angel said. "I know you're confused about all this, but it's really not that big of a deal. You and Iggy can still be friends."

That seemed to drive Fang over the edge.

"Well maybe I don't want to be friends with a _faggot_!" He roared, causing both Angel and I to flinch. "It's disgusting! I don't care what you guys say, even if that queer didn't intentionally pull Iggy over to the dark side, it's his fault! And I'm going to make him pay!"

I was done with this. I stormed away and retreated down the hall to my room, ignoring Fang's shouts behind me.

"Where are you going?" Fang demanded, louder this time.

"Canada!" I replied, slamming my door behind me.

* * *

><p>I met up with Connor the next morning before first period, feeling sullen and moody. He picked up on my bad mood almost immediately, and asked me what was wrong.<p>

"Nick's a douche," I grumbled with a scowl. "He won't listen to a word I say. He still thinks you're manipulating me just so you can have a boyfriend."

Connor snorted. "That's a load of crap," he said. Then he paused a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was serious. "James, you don't believe that, do you?"

I knew what the correct response was, and I wished I could have answered "no" right away, but something held my tongue. The truth was, I _had_ been thinking along those lines the night before. After all, perhaps the only reason we were still together was because I was the only person with his compatible gender that he could get away with dating. I hated myself for thinking so low of my boyfriend, but the doubts were still there.

"I... I don't know," I finally responded, feeling like a guilty, confused lost puppy.

Connor sighed. "James... I don't like you just 'cause you're gay. I was your friend before I knew, remember? I just like you for you. I think you're funny, and smart, and easy to talk to, and a good kisser..." He let out a self-conscious little laugh. "And yeah, probably one of the hottest guys I've ever met. But I just want you to know that... I like you for the guy that you are. Actually, I... I want to tell you that... I mean, I should have said it sooner, and you probably already know, but..."

"I know," I said with a warm smile. "Me too."

We just kind of stood there for a few moments, letting them pass by in silence because there was really nothing left to be said. That is, until I noticed that the bell had long since rung, leaving the school courtyard that we occupied empty of all other students. I smirked and said, "So, you think I'm a good kisser?"

Connor laughed. "Yeah," he replied. "Now how 'bout you prove me righ-"

My lips silenced him before he could finish. He wanted proof? I was more than willing to give it to him.

* * *

><p>Fang<p>

* * *

><p>I stole another sidelong glance at the clock; five minutes until the bell. It was the end of the day, and I was sitting in class feeling nervous and tingly for what I had planned to do I soon as I walked out that door.<p>

I would act sorry. I would tell them I just wanted to talk. I'd keep a conversation going while I lead Connor to the bleachers, where the football team would be waiting. After that, my only job was sit back and watch.

An obnoxious buzz signified the end of class, and I quickly rose from my seat and gathered my stuff. I knew where Iggy and Connor met up before and after school - in the little courtyard by the parking lot. That's where I was headed, hoping I'd make it before someone came to pick Connor up.

When I arrived at the courtyard, I saw the boys sitting on a bench and laughing together. I felt a surge of anger - what right did that fag have to lead Iggy on like that?

"Hey," I said, approaching the bench. They looked up at me in surprise, and the glare Iggy shot in my general direction admittedly was a bit terrifying; geez, how does a blind kid do that?

"What the heck are you doing here, Nick?" Iggy growled angrily. "If you've come to condemn us some more, feel free to be skipping off on your merry way."

"Actually, I... I wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything I said," I told them, staring down at my feet and trying for a remorseful expression. "I had no right to accuse you and overreact like that. It was just a lot to get used to at the time, and I didn't know how to handle it. I hope you'll forgive me."

_Good_, I thought, giving myself a mental pat on the back. That nearly convinced me.

They looked surprised. Iggy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Seriously?" He asked, the slightest hopeful note in his voice.

"Seriously," I replied. _Not_.

Iggy took a long moment to consider this, and finally cracked a wide grin and said, "Sure, why not. I'm tired of fighting. Let's just forget that all ever happened, okay?" He stood up, extending his hand towards me. "Bros?"

I returned his smile and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Bros."

"Aw, a happy ending," Connor said with a grin, lounging back on the bench carelessly. "It's about time you two made up, I was getting ready to knock some sense into you."

_Funny_, I thought, _I was just thinking the same about you_.

"Hey, um, Connor?" I said, releasing Iggy's hand and focusing on the boy on the bench. "I was wondering if I could talk to you, if you have a minute."

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said. "My sister's going to be late picking me up, anyway." He stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Um, over here," I said, leading the way towards the field. Lucky for me, they were just a short distance from the courtyard.

"So," he said as we were walking, kicking a piece of gravel across the pavement and watching it skitter away. "What's up?"

"Well," I began, thinking frantically in my head of what to say, "I... just wanted to say that I'm sorry again for everything. I really was a jerk."

"It's cool," said Connor with a shrug. "I deal with that everyday at home. You get used to it."

What was he trying to do, get sympathy from me? Well, it wasn't happening. The lying little fag deserved to be treated that way.

"Um, tell me about yourself," I said, stalling for time. We were nearly at the football field now, and I was glancing around surreptitiously trying to get a glimpse of the team. They said they would be hiding out somewhere... "You know, since it would probably be a good idea to get to know my brother's... boyfriend." Ugh.

"Alright, well... I'm the youngest of five kids - the three oldest have moved out already, and my seventeen-year-old sister lives with us," he explained. "My parents are _really_ Catholic, which kinda sucks for me, obviously. Um, I play piano, and I did baseball for a few years, but my parents made me quit after they found out I was gay. They also made me drop out of Catholic school, which was fine by me; you should have seen the look on the principal's face when they told him, it was priceless. Oh, and Connor is my middle name - my first name is actually Thaddeus." He made a face. "I'll never understand why someone would saddle their kid with a name that sounds like it's from the Cretaceous period. My brothers and sisters are never gonna let me live that one down."

We had arrived under the big metal bleachers. Connor seemed to have just realized this, and he looked around in confusion. "Um... what are we doing here, exactly?" He asked bemusedly.

"You'll see," I replied, allowing myself a smirk.

As if on cue, one of the football guys appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Connor from behind, pinning his arms behind him. "Hey, queer," sneered the junior, grinning nastily down at Connor. "We've been expecting you."

"What the - hey, let me go!" He said, struggling furiously against the guy's iron grip to no prevail. More of the team began to show up, gathering around in a loose circle, laughing and jeering at Connor's attempts to break free. "Nick, what the heck is going on here?" Connor demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" one of the players responded with a sadistic smirk. I recognized him as Brent, the guy that heard Iggy and Connor talking in the bathroom the other day. "He agreed to help us teach you a lesson, Sugarplum." Brent stepped forward, and without another word, began to swing his fist into Connor's stomach repeatedly in a series of heavy punches. All the breath left Connor's lungs in a pained gasp, and he doubled over in the other guy's grasp.

With the spectating players cheering him on, Brent continued to beat Connor mercilessly. Before long, his eyes were ringed with fast-forming bruises, and blood dribbled freely down his face from his nose. When Brent dealt a particularly crushing blow to his collarbone, a sharp crack reverberated around the metal bleachers and Connor cried out in pain.

I winced; I hadn't expected them to break any of Connor's bones. They were taking this a little too far - I should tell them to stop.

"Guys," I said hastily, "I think he's had enough. You should let him go."

"Why?" Brent retorted, pausing with his fist drawn back for another swing at Connor's face. "You standing up for the queer, Martinez?"

"No, I just -"

"He _deserves_ it," said one of the sophomore players. "Guys like him are nothing but scum. They all need to be taught a lesson."

I let it drop. Maybe they were right. However, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt every time I heard another heavy thud land on Connor's body.

A knee to his gut left Connor crumpled on the ground - they didn't even bother holding him up anymore. I thought that they were done, but Brent just started kicking Connor repeatedly in whatever spot he could reach, and the bleeding boy curled up in a little ball in an attempt to protect himself, which of course left his limbs vulnerable. One hard kick to his exposed arm, and I heard another crack; Connor let out a weak moan.

"You like that, Princess?" Brent taunted, finally ceasing to pummel him and crouching down to his level. He grabbed a fistful of Connor's hair and yanked his head back. "What about this, huh?" He bent his head over Connor's neck and began sucking on it ferociously. "Isn't this what you want?" He demanded, biting down on his throat, leaving angry reddish marks.

"Stop," Connor rasped shakily. "S-stop."

"You like it, don't you?" Brent persisted. "Don't you, little fag!"

"N-no..."

Brent pulled away from Connor's neck and stood, kicking Connor again in the chest; there was another crack, signifying that a rib had been broken, and Connor gasped in anguish.

"J-James," Connor called weakly, no doubt praying Iggy would somehow hear him. "James, help!"

"Shut up!" Brent ordered. "Your little _boyfriend_ can't hear you. Damon's taking care of him now."

"What?" I snapped, frantically processing this information. _Damon had Iggy?_ "What is he doing to him?"

"I don't know," said Brent with a noncommittal shrug. "He just told us to keep Tinkerbell here out of the way while he took care of blindy."

I ran. I sprinted away from the bleachers, ignoring the shouts from behind me and racing towards campus. I wasn't going to let Iggy get hurt like that. Even though Damon was just a regular human and Iggy could kick his butt in his sleep, I wasn't going to take the chance. Because, I guess that all along, I always did care for Iggy. He was my brother. My best friend. And, gay or not, I would always love him.

A terrible feeling of dread crept though me when I arrived at the courtyard where I had left Iggy. The bench was empty.

* * *

><p>Iggy<p>

* * *

><p>Ten minutes after Fang dragged Connor off to who knows where, I was getting tired of waiting on that stupid bench. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes would be home all day, so the only chance I got to hang out with Connor was in that courtyard before his sister came from the Catholic school to pick him up. And what was I doing? Sitting there alone like an idiot.<p>

Deciding I would try to look for Connor and Fang, I headed off in the direction I had heard them leave and hoped I wasn't getting myself completely lost. I thought I was doing good since I hadn't bumped into anything yet, when a voice behind me said, "Hey, you're about to walk into that fence, just so you know."

Flushing slightly with embarrassment, I mumbled, "Thanks," and stuck my arms out in front of me. Taking another step, I felt chain-link on my fingertips. Well, so much for not getting completely lost.

"Here, I'll help you," said the guy, whoever he was. "What are you looking for?"

"Uh, my brother and my... friend," I replied. "They went off in this direction, I think."

"Oh, you know what, I think I just saw them a minute ago," he said. "They were going this way - here, I'll show you."

"Okay, thanks," I said, and the guy put his hand on my shoulder to guide me in another direction.

"I'm Damon, by the way," the guy told me as we walked. "I'm one of Nick's friends."

"Oh yeah," I said, recognition dawning on me. "I think he's talked about you a couple times. Um, I'm James."

"I know," replied Damon. "I think Nick has talked about you a couple times, too."

We walked for quite a while, and at some point entered the school. I began to wonder if this guy had any clue where he was going, when he opened a classroom door and led me inside.

"Um, they went into a classroom?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nope," Damon replied, and before I could do anything, something pierced my arm, and I felt some unholy fluid being injected into my bloodstream.

"What the heck?" I cried, as he pulled the needle from my arm. "What are you doing?" My first thought was that Itex had somehow reformed and they were coming for us again, and I started to panic. "Leave us alone!" I yelled helplessly, just as I began to feel the effects of whatever drug he had given me. I was weakening rapidly, and before I knew it, I collapsed onto the floor. My head was spinning, but I hadn't passed out. What the heck was going on?

"You're mine now, Martinez," said Damon, who grabbed me under the arms and started dragging me further into the room; I barely had any strength to resist. I heard another door open, and he pulled me into a room that felt much smaller than the first.

"Do you know where you are, James?" asked Damon tauntingly. "This is one of the separate practice rooms for band - completely soundproof. No one will be able to hear us in here."

He closed the door behind us, and the faint sounds I heard beyond the band room were cut off. I felt horribly claustrophobic in this room, and the lack of outside noise plus the weakness from the drug made me feel completely helpless.

"We're all alone now," Damon informed me in a strange voice. "And for the next half hour, you're all mine."

I was startled when he climbed on top of me, straddling my waist. He leaned in to whisper in my ear, "I'll let you in on a little secret, James. First of all, I know that you like guys. And second... so do I."

Without warning, Damon's lips crushed onto mine, and I felt his tongue plunge into my mouth. At first, I was too shocked to react; then I tried to shove him off of me, which was no good, since I barely had the strength to lift my arms and his muscular build rendered him about as heavy as a rhinoceros. I was completely under his control, and quite frankly, it scared me.

When he finally broke away for air, I could sense the smirk in his voice. "There, see," he panted, "wasn't that better than when Hayes kisses you?"

_No_, I thought. _Connor doesn't try to freaking eat my face_.

"You're insane," I spat. "Get off of me!"

"I don't think so," he said. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Connor will find out," I assured him. "He won't let you do this." I tried to be confident in those words, but let's face it - even if Connor did find us, I doubted he would win in a fight against Damon. The kid was pretty scrawny, and Damon was frickin' Hercules.

"I have a feeling that he won't," Damon said, a hint of maliciousness tainting his voice. "I arranged to have some friends take care of him while we have our fun."

A white burst of anger flashed through the blackness of my vision (or lack thereof), and I felt a flurry of rage and fear rush through me as I processed those words. _They're hurting Connor_.

"What are they doing to him?" I roared. "Don't you dare touch him! _Don't_ -"

But he silenced me with another rough kiss, jamming his tongue down my throat once more, and I resisted the urge to gag. He chewed on my already bruised lips for as long as his lungs could bear before releasing me to gulp down some oxygen.

"Hush," he breathed venomously in my ear, "forget about him. I can make you feel so good..."

"Shut up!" I hissed, infuriated. "Why are you doing this? Why did you bring him into this? Why couldn't you have just left him alone?"

"Why do you think?" Replied Damon. "I wanted you for myself. Ever since school started, I've had my eyes on you; and that little pansy Hayes took you for himself before I could make my move. I was jealous. I wanted revenge... so I convinced Nick to help us out. Did you really think he just wanted to have a harmless chat with your little boyfriend?"

"No..." I muttered. "He wouldn't... He would never..."

I couldn't believe it. I didn't _want_ to believe it. It's true, I had been suspicious at first of Fang's willingness to apologize so suddenly, but I had forgiven him because he seemed genuinely sorry. And I knew he was mad at Connor, but I never could have imagined that he would want to _hurt_ him... Oh, gosh. I felt sick.

"Nick's no saint," Damon said smugly. "It didn't take much persuading to get him to agree. He was practically jumping at the opportunity."

I felt angry, betrayed, and just downright shocked. How could Fang do this to someone I cared about so much, just for being _gay_? He was supposed to be my brother, wasn't he_? How could he do this?_

"Well, enough talking," Damon said impatiently. "We're wasting time when we have other things that we can do..."

He gave me one last suffocating kiss, and my eyes widened when I felt his hands wandering up my shirt. He eventually pulled away and started sucking fiercely on my neck.

"Stop," I gasped, wincing as he bit my throat. Again, I attempted to push him off of me, but whatever drug he'd injected me with wasn't letting up any time soon - in fact, my limbs were starting to feel numb.

"You want me to stop?" He asked with mock concern, literally breathing up my neck, causing me to shiver involuntarily. "I'll stop. When I've had what I came here for."

One of his hands slipped out from under my shirt and reached down, tugging teasingly at the waistband of my jeans...

"No!" I squeaked, feeling suddenly terrified at what he was proposing. "No way! Get off!"

"It's no use begging," he growled. "You're not getting out of here until I'm done with you, understand?" He fumbled with my zipper, and a moment later had torn off my jeans. "Now, let's get this thing out of the way..."

He began stripping off my shirt, and suddenly I remembered; _my wings_.

I was not going to let that idiot freaking rape me like this so easily. No way. The instant my shirt was pulled over my head, I used what little strength I could and implemented the last defense I knew; I extended my wings as far as they would go in the cramped space.

His reaction was pretty impressive. Hercules screamed like a little girl, scrambling away from me faster than I could blink. "You - you!" He stammered, and I could hear his hand fumbling for the doorknob. "Freak!" He threw open the door and scampered off.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I called after him as he fled from the band room. "It was nice chatting with you!" _Well_, I thought, _that was remarkably easy_.

My victory didn't last long. Almost immediately I remembered Connor, and cold fear gripped my heart. How badly was he hurt, I wondered, and how could I stop them from hurting him more if I could barely move?

_I have to try_, I urged myself. _Come on, Iggy, get on your feet!_ It wasn't quite that simple, but eventually I had propped myself up on my elbows and already felt like I could go for a good nap. _Dang it, snap the heck out of it!_

I was willing my strength to magically return to me, trying once more to pull myself to a standing position, but all I accomplished doing was reacquainting myself with the floor. "Aurgh!" I cried out in frustration. "This isn't fair!" The _one_ time someone I cared about was in danger and I could do something to stop it, my limbs were reduced to Jell-O.

Just as I was about to give up, I heard a familiar voice calling for me. "Iggy? Iggy, are you in there?"

I couldn't believe it. _Fang?_

* * *

><p>Fang<p>

* * *

><p>If I hadn't happened to be double-checking that hallway when Iggy yelled, I'm not sure I ever would have found him. I dashed into the band room and saw him behind another open door, jeans and T-shirt in a scattered heap beside him and wings spread up the walls of the tiny room. I noticed that he had several violent red marks scattered across his neck to match the ones Brent gave Connor.<p>

For one bewildered moment I wondered if he'd simply run off on his own to go have a make out session with some random person in the band practice room, but I knew he wouldn't just expose his wings like that, and he was too loyal to Connor, anyway. So I considered the possibility that Damon had in fact been in there with him... which only led to a more confusing scenario. Obviously, someone had to have given Iggy those hickeys, and if it had been Damon, he certainly took it considerably farther than Brent had to taunt Connor. And, was it just me, or were Iggy's lips a little swollen?

"What happened to you?" I asked incredulously.

Instead of an answer, Iggy directed a furious string of curses at me, complete with the fierce glint in his eyes I usually saw when someone was about to get seriously injured. "How could you?" He demanded after calling me something that would have made small children's ears bleed. "How could you do that to him? Where is he? Are they still hurting him?" He said all this very frantically, his unnerving death glare never leaving my eyes.

"Uh..." I swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in my throat. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I kinda just left him with the team -"

"You _left him there_?" Iggy roared. "They're probably hurting him, and you don't even _care_! Do you have _any idea_ how much Connor means to me?"

For some reason, those words struck me like a bullet. No, I realized. I really didn't have any idea.

"I was only trying to protect you," I reasoned weakly. "Don't you understand, I did this for you!"

"If you really had my best interests at heart, you wouldn't have betrayed my boyfriend!" Iggy said fiercely. "How would you feel if I let someone hurt Max?"

"That's different!" I protested.

"How is it different?" Iggy asked exasperatedly. "I love him just as much as you love Max. I love him, Fang, and nothing you say or do is going to change that! So just _get over it_ already!"

The silence that followed seemed to weigh a million pounds. I realized... he was right. It was pointless fighting this anymore. He wasn't going to change - honestly, could I just stop being straight if someone told me to? Iggy was gay, and it wasn't Connor's fault, because that's just the way he'd been from the start. And... I had done something horribly wrong. Had I really just stood there while those guys had beaten Connor to a bloody pulp? Sure, he was gay, but what did that make me?

"I... I'm sorry," I said; and this time, I really meant it. "Iggy, I'm so sorry. That was uncalled for - all of it. I feel like a total jerk."

"Good," Iggy retorted, but I could tell he had accepted my apology for the time being. "Now, can we discuss this later? We need to make sure Connor's okay. But, first, there's something you should know..."

"What?" I prompted.

"I, uh, don't think I can move."

Great. "Can you please explain what the heck happened in here?" I asked.

"Long story short, it turns out that your friend Damon has had a creepy crush on me all year," Iggy explained coolly. "He's gay, or at least bi, I'm not sure. I'm assuming you didn't know about this?"

I realized my mouth was dangling open, and I quickly shut it in the off chance that there were flies hanging around the band room. "You're... you're serious?" I stammered.

"He dragged me here with an offer to help me find you, and then stabbed me with a needle out of nowhere and I lost all the strength in my muscles. After that..." He trailed off, but the whole clothing situation gave me an idea of Damon's intentions, and I resisted the urge to vomit.

"I had no idea..." I said in a small voice.

"Yeah, well, life is full of surprises," Iggy said curtly. "Now we need to go back to wherever you ditched Connor."

"Wait," I said, a thought having just occurred to me. "Damon... he saw your wings, didn't he?"

"That was the only way to get him off me, so yeah," Iggy said tensely. "Of course, if he told people about them he'd have to explain how he knows, so I doubt we're in any kind of trouble. Now, _please_, take me to Connor." I could detect a frantic desperation hidden just beneath the surface of his sarcastic attitude, and I nodded in agreement.

"Okay. Here." I bent down and quickly helped him replace his clothing, and I wrapped his arm around my shoulders, lifting him to his feet with ease. This is how we made our way from the band room, with me half supporting, half dragging Iggy as fast as I could manage down to the football field. Silently, I wondered if Connor would even be conscious when we arrived.

As soon as the field was in view, my heart sank. Someone had called an ambulance, and paramedics were rolling a stretcher bearing a motionless, bloody Connor through it's doors. From where we stood I could also see that a cop car occupied the nearby parking lot, and it looked like an officer and the school principal were having a heated discussion with the guys from the football team.

"What?" Iggy hissed anxiously. "Why are we stopping? Is it Connor? Is he okay?"

"They... they have him in an ambulance," I replied softly, and I felt Iggy stiffen. "It looks like he's unconscious."

Iggy didn't say a word - he just nodded numbly; the look in his eyes was one of pure fear.

"Hey, he'll be okay," I assured him. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. They probably just want to check on the broken bones."

Iggy flinched. "They broke bones?" He muttered in horror. To bird-kids like us, broken bones were no big deal, but Connor was only human - who knows how long it would take for him to heal. "We have to go to the hospital," Iggy said, as I watched the ambulance pull out through the school gates.

"I'm sure the drug will just wear off on it's own, it won't be necessary to -"

"I need to be there for Connor," Iggy said sharply. "I can't just leave him there by himself. I want to be with him when he wakes up."

I let out a sigh. "Okay," I relented. "Dr. M can take us all there, if you want. She's probably waiting for us in the parking lot."

We made our way out to the familiar minivan parked in front of the school, and I was careful to avoid the group of boys huddled around the squad car; I felt a discomforting twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach, knowing I was meant to join them, but I couldn't afford to get in trouble now. The flock had just become settled into this new life, and I didn't want to ruin anything for my family. And, deep down, I guess I really just didn't want to face up to it myself.

Max had a murderous look in her eyes when she saw us approaching the van. "Where the heck were you?" She demanded. _"And what happened?"_

"Long story," I said dismissively. "Can your mom take us to the hospital?"

"Why?" She asked, a more concerned look taking the place of her glare as she glanced Iggy up and down. "Iggy, are you hurt?"

"He's fine," I answered her. "He's worried about Connor Hayes."

"The gay boy they beat up?" Max asked confusedly.

Iggy nodded. "He's a friend," he replied evenly.

"Um, okay," Max said, an odd expression on her face. "Are you sure, Iggy? I mean, you hate hospitals. We all do."

"I have to go," Iggy said, a determined tone in his voice and his jaw set stubbornly. "He's a really good friend of mine. You guys can go home if you want." For good measure, he added, "I think I can walk now, Fang."

Sure enough, when I removed his arm uncertainly from my shoulders, he took a moment to balance himself on shaky legs, and was able to climb (albeit weakly) into the van. Max gave me a look, and I shrugged.

With a sigh, we all clambered into the vehicle, and Max explained the situation to her mom. Dr. M said it was sweet of Iggy to care so much for his "friend", and she supported the idea, so soon we were all seated in the lobby of the local hospital, waiting for news on Connor's condition. Everyone was a bit on edge from the various faint medical smells that reached the lobby, but no one was as anxious as Iggy. He sat tensely in his chair, drumming his fingers against his thigh restlessly, every once and a while getting up to pace by the window, trailing his hand across the glass with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Ig, _sit down_," Nudge groaned, tossing aside the magazine she'd been skimming through for the third time. "You're, like, gonna wear a trail through the carpet. Instead of pacing like that, why don't you tell us about this guy we're supposed to be visiting? My friends told me about him once, I think. Is it true he's gay? That would be cute. I've heard he is pretty cute, actually. Does he really have green eyes? Well, you probably wouldn't know, of course, sorry. I think green eyes are pretty, don't you, Angel?"

Angel nodded in agreement. "I guess his eyes are kinda pretty..." She mused.

"Hey, Iggy, does Connor have a boyfriend?" Nudge asked curiously, leaning her chin on the heel of her hand. "That would be adorable."

"Uh, yeah, he does," Iggy replied absentmindedly, somehow managing a straight face.

"Ooh, I bet they're such a cute couple!" She squealed. "But shouldn't his boyfriend be here? You know, for support?"

"He probably doesn't know," Iggy lied smoothly. "Connor said he goes to Eastview." Eastview was the high school on the other side of town, slightly more upscale than the one we attended. I heard they had quite a few more gay kids there than at our school, and the other students were much more accepting. _Connor and Iggy would be better off there_, I thought; as for Damon, I could care less if he got beat up. That creep deserved it.

"Well, it's too bad Connor doesn't go to school there," Nudge said, "then this wouldn't have happened. It really is terrible, isn't it? I mean, what sadistic jerks would do that kind of thing to a poor innocent guy? I can't imagine so many players on the team could be so biased. At least Garret Cutcher has a heart - it's lucky he showed up when he did, I heard they were about to pull a knife on Connor."

"What?" Iggy and I questioned simultaneously.

"Yeah, Veronica said he happened to hear what was going on and ran to stop them," Max explained. "He was furious. Said he would ask the coach to kick every single one of them from the team."

Garret Cutcher was the star JV quarterback, an all-around nice, upstanding guy from a family of several other nice, upstanding kids. I didn't know him that well, but everyone told me they'd never heard him say a disrespectful word to anyone in his life. He was the kind of kid that you can't help but admire and that parents say you should be more like. It didn't surprise me that he'd taken on the responsibility of getting an ambulance for Connor and calling the police - in fact, he was probably still at the hospital making sure he was okay.

My guess was confirmed when I saw Garret striding through the doors that led off to the rest of the hospital, looking tired and a bit stressed. He brightened, however, when he caught sight of us sitting around in the worn waiting chairs.

"Hey, you're the Martinez family, right?" He asked, approaching our little huddle. Max nodded.

"How is he?" Iggy blurted, clinging to his armrests with a white-knuckled grip.

Garret gave a brief smile. "He'll be fine," he replied. "Just really banged up. They put his arm in a brace, said it was fractured - his rib and collarbone should set okay on their own. They gave him pain meds for everything else. He's awake now, you can go see him if you want. He's been asking for you," he added with a pointed glance at Iggy.

"Thank you," Iggy said, getting up from his chair. "Really, you have no idea how much I appreciate you taking care of all this."

"Nah, it wasn't any trouble," Garret assured him. "I'm just glad I got there before they could do anything really serious."

Garret told us Connor's room number, and I volunteered to walk Iggy down there. I wouldn't go in, because Connor probably wouldn't appreciate seeing the guy that was partly responsible for his attack at the moment, and I wanted to allow Iggy and his boyfriend some privacy.

I still wasn't sure of how I felt about homosexuals in general, but I knew that I would just have to accept Iggy's relationship with Connor. It was Iggy's life, after all, and he would live it the way he wanted to. I just hoped that he knew what he was getting himself into.

* * *

><p>Iggy<p>

* * *

><p>The hospital reeked of antiseptic and melancholy, and I was having trouble repressing the flashbacks to my early days at the School as I followed Fang's lead down the pristine halls. However, my anxiety for the location was nothing compared to my anxiety for my boyfriend. Three broken bones, I noted Garret had said. And Nudge... she'd mentioned they were going to pull a knife on him. I shuddered softly at the thought.<p>

"Room 146," Fang announced suddenly, coming to a stop in the hall. "I'll wait outside."

I entered the room immediately, not bothering to knock. Walking forward uncertainly with my hands held out slightly to avoid furniture, I found my way to Connor's bed where I heard his shallow breathing. "How're you doing?" I asked quietly, reaching towards him; he caught my hand in his and held it tightly.

"Much better now," he replied, his voice weak and raspy but his tone sounded relieved. "I'm so glad you came. I was worried you didn't know what happened."

"Call it blind guy intuition," I said, for lack of a better explanation - I didn't exactly feel like sharing my incident with Damon just yet.

We lapsed into a few moments' silence, until I finally muttered, "I'm so sorry."

"For what, James?" Connor asked, concern lacing his strained voice.

"For being naive enough to believe Nick," I replied, feeling disgusted with myself. "For letting him drag you off with him without a second thought. For leaving you there so long. For not being there to protect you."

Connor let out a shaky laugh. "I mean this in the nicest of ways, babe, but I don't think a blind guy would be much good against those Neanderthals." _If only you knew_, I thought to myself. I could've pounded every one of those guys into the ground in two seconds flat. "I know how you feel," he went on, "but this wasn't your fault. There's no need for you to be guilty over this on top of everything."

"You're probably right," I agreed with a sigh. "It's just... I wish you hadn't gotten hurt."

"Yeah, well, what're you gonna do - this world doesn't accept people like us," he said. "There's not much we can do about it except hold our heads high, grin and bear it. We're all freaks to them, anyway." Despite the matter-of-fact manner in which he spoke, the words still weren't much of a comfort.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Freaks." Now there was one word I was well acquainted with.

"I wonder if my parents know yet?" Connor mused. "I can't wait to hear what they'll say. Probably that I deserved it."

"Come on, they can't be that bad," I said reassuringly.

"You don't know them," he said darkly, a strangely defeated hint to his voice that was completely foreign to him. "It's not like my dad hasn't already tried smacking me around in an attempt to 'straighten me out'. This isn't the first time I've taken a hit for what I am."

Connor had never told me this before. I had always known life at home for him was difficult, but I never imagined that his parents would actually _hurt_ him over such a stupid situation. I immediately felt the need to comfort him - he just seemed so vulnerable now, and I couldn't stand hearing him be reduced to that. Without a word, I climbed over the plastic railing of his hospital bed and curled up next to him over the sheets, wrapping my arms around his slight frame carefully so as not to jar his injuries. I grimaced as my fingertips brushed his arm, and I could feel the violently vibrant shades of the bruises that dotted his skin.

"Connor... why didn't you tell me?" I asked gently, letting him rest his head on my chest and running a hand consolingly through his hair. "I had no idea that your dad would..."

"It's fine," Connor said hastily. "I shouldn't have said anything, it's not a big deal."

"It is to me," I said sharply. With a sigh, I added in a softer tone, "I just don't want you to be hurt. I care about you, Connor. So much."

"I know," came his quiet reply.

We lapsed into couple minute's silence once more, until Connor eventually spoke up with an unexpected question. "So, can I ask how you got those hickeys, exactly?"

"He left hickeys?" I groaned exasperatedly, and Connor began an attempt to sit up.

"He? He who?" He asked, struggling to prop himself up on the pillows, an angry edge in his tone. "Who were you with?"

"Calm down, it's okay, just let me explain," I soothed hurriedly. "Just lay back, don't strain yourself..."

"Who were you with James?" He demanded, refusing to get settled again. "And why was he _leeching_ on your neck?"

"I hope you're not thinking that I cheated on you," I said seriously. "Because you know I would never do that. It was Damon - he attacked me, I swear."

"Damon?" He deadpanned. "The idiot prick on the football team that's had, like, fourteen consecutive girlfriends over the past semester and has terrorized me since the seventh grade when I admitted I had a crush on his best friend? Of course, why didn't I suspect he was queer...?"

"Look, I know it's crazy - I couldn't believe it myself at first," I replied. "But when I was looking for you and Nick after you'd been gone so long, he came up to me and offered to help. Turns out he was taking me into the band room, and he dragged me into one of those soundproof practice rooms they have. Then, well, he..."

"How far did he get?" Connor asked anxiously, catching on. "James, he didn't...?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "But he intended to," I added darkly.

Connor let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief, lowering himself back onto the mattress. "Good," was all he said.

"By the way, Connor," I said, pulling him close again, "thanks for not kissing like a Labrador. I'll go through a whole bottle of Listerine tonight to get rid of the cafeteria corn dog taste." I pulled a face and made a mock retching noise.

Connor was not amused, and was acting strangely quiet. I asked him what was wrong, and he just clenched a fistful of my shirt in his hand like he was never going to let me go.

"Connor, are you okay?" I asked again.

I could hear the scowl in his voice as he replied, "I'm gonna murder that Damon."

"Heh, join the club," I said with a smirk. "But, I can assure you that he won't bother us anymore, if that's any consolation."

Connor sighed dismissively. "So, how'd you get away?" He inquired. "Tell me you kicked him in the kiwis. Really hard."

I laughed. "No - though I guess I could've done that sooner." I decided to avoid the little detail that I lacked the strength to move my legs due to the drugs - too unbelievable and presumably unnecessary when dealing with a 'helpless blind guy'. "Actually," I continued, "Nick came looking for me. Got there just in time, too."

"Oh yeah," Connor said morosely, "I remember him taking off just before they started trying to skewer me with that pocket knife."

Bringing up the subject of Fang did nothing but make me angry again, but I was more concerned about that last part... Just thinking about Connor getting stabbed made me queasy.

Connor, always the perceptive one, seemed to notice my distress immediately; I could sense him rolling his eyes. "I'm telling you, James, it's not that bad."

"Then why are you in the hospital?" I pointed out.

"For the free food," he replied easily. "I'm pretty certain the meatloaf's toxic, but the pudding cups are a bonus. Plus they gave me this awesome Winnie The Pooh band-aid!" He enthusiastically took my hand and lifted it to his cheek, where I could feel that there was, indeed, a brightly colored band-aid.

"How much of that painkiller do they have you on, exactly?" I chortled, rubbing my thumb across his cheek absentmindedly. "You're being remarkably moody today." I felt him shrug against me.

"Does it matter? You should know by now that moodiness is one of my natural traits. Then again, so are my dashing good looks. It's a delicate balance."

"It's why I put up with you," I replied with a smirk. "Your sexiness is a major benefit to my awesome eyesight."

Connor laughed, and as stupid and corny as this sounds, it was the most wonderful noise you can possibly imagine - his laughter just warmed my heart and everything around him. Not for the first time, I wished that I could see his smile; I liked to imagine that his nose crinkled.

Deciding this display of utter adorableness was merit for reward, I leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head, and he brought himself up to meet my lips. In that moment, it didn't matter that we were in a hospital, because everything felt right again; it was like one of those too-perfect scenes straight off of Disney Chanel - warped a little by the fact that we were both boys, but who cares about those minor details?

Of course, the moment just wouldn't be complete without someone stepping in to ruin it all. Just as he'd entangled his fingers in my hair, I heard as the door was thrust open, and a high-pitched siren scream burst my eardrums. My first assumption was that Max or Nudge had barged in, and I prepared myself for a long, awkward explanation; oh, if only we'd been so lucky.

_"Thaddeus Connor Hayes!"_ The banshee shrieked, and poor Connor probably would've fallen off the bed if it hadn't been for the railing. "What are you _doing_?"

"Mom," Connor muttered, rapidly withdrawing his hands from me. "I... We were just..."

"Get away from him!" cried the woman, Connor's mom apparently, and before I knew it, I was being violently yanked off of the bed by my arm, and I toppled to the floor in a graceless heap. Okay, _that_ was uncalled for. "How dare you?" Mrs. Hayes screeched. "How dare you defile my son? _Sinner!_ Devil spawn!"

I had quickly reached a conclusion: this lady was totally crazy. I knew some Christian people - my friend Dallas was also Catholic, and another friend, Amelia, was a devout Mormon. They never reacted like this...

"Mom, stop!" Connor protested. "Don't accuse him like that, he didn't do anything."

I could hear Mrs. Hayes whirling on him. "And you, Thaddeus!" She wailed melodramatically. "How could you do this? I thought you'd gotten over this phase."

"It's not a _phase_," Connor groaned. "I'm gay, Mom. That's not going to change."

"You are _not gay_!" She insisted fervently. "Sweetie, I know this is a difficult and confusing time for you, and that you've been under the influence of people like _him_ -" I assumed she was jabbing a judgmental finger in my direction - "but I promise, your father and I are going to help you."

"Help me with what?" Connor said exasperatedly.

"Help you recognize that what you're doing is _wrong_." She replied gently. "I thought, after all of this, that those boys would have taught you a lesson, Thaddeus."

"I knew it," Connor said stonily. "I knew you would take their side. Typical."

"Sweetheart, I'm just saying that they had a point. After everything we've done, there has to be some way for you to learn..."

"You can't make me learn to be attracted to a certain gender, Mom," Connor hissed. "What did you think you were going to do, sway me with a few books? A motivational speech? A beating by some football players, do you think that'll be sufficient?"

"What you're doing is disgusting, son, and you know it!" Mrs. Hayes cried. "It's unnatural!"

"_Love_ isn't unnatural," Connor said coldly. "And I love James."

There goes that little flutter in my chest again; the first time he'd ever said it out loud. Funny, I never expected his vocal confession of love towards me would be in a situation even remotely like this - in a hospital with a demented lady screaming at us - but I treasured the words just the same.

"Love," Mrs. Hayes scoffed. "You can't possibly love a boy, Thaddeus. You are deluding yourself, _both_ of you are."

"_You're_ deluding yourself if you think that I'm incapable of loving someone just because some high-and-mighty guy on a pulpit announced it," Connor retorted.

"This is a sin!" Mrs. Hayes proclaimed. "You are rebelling against God!"

"Do you honestly believe that?" Connor said softly. "Because, the way I see it, the God that they preach about in church and is described in the scriptures wouldn't object to love."

I strained my ears to hear him reach over to the bedside table, pulling open the drawer to retrieve something - it sounded like wood scraping across wood as he pulled it out, and I realized it must be the cross he always wore tucked underneath his shirt; the doctors must have removed it for him earlier. The simple rosary was one of his most treasured possessions, I knew, given to him by his grandmother when he was little.

"I think you're just missing the point of all this, Mom," Connor said as he clutched the little cross loyally. "Despite all the odds against me, I'm willing to bet that I have more faith than any of those self-righteous priests you idolize; my understanding of God is just different than yours - my religion is love, not hate. Doesn't that just make more sense?"

"Your father will hear about this," Mrs. Hayes snapped, for lack of a proper response. "We will discuss your punishment together when you're properly healed." And with that, she swept out of the room without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

><p>After his mother's visit, Connor wasn't in much of a mood to talk. I could tell he was worried by what Mrs. Hayes had said upon leaving - if possible, his dad was even harsher than banshee lady, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't be kicked out of the house for that little stunt.<p>

I assured him if it came to that, he was welcome to stay with the flock. In spite of her modest way of living, Dr. Martinez had a rather generous income, and certainly wouldn't be opposed to offering Connor a place to stay. He could get a part-time job over the summer to take care of clothes and everything for himself, as well as possibly help with the expenses he took out of Max's mom. I think Connor was a bit comforted by this suggestion, but he still hated the thought of leaving his sister and his dog, and even his parents, to an extent.

I felt terrible. If it weren't for me, Connor wouldn't be in danger of losing his home. "This all my fault," I muttered.

"No it's _not_," Connor insisted. "I really wish you would stop saying that. I would give up the world for you, James, so quit taking the blame for everything that goes on in my screwed up life."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "This isn't fair," I grumbled, resisting the urge to stomp my foot like a toddler.

"No," was Connor's dejected response. "No, it's not. But that's life for you."

I opted to stay the night at the hospital, but by around ten thirty the flock had long since gone home and Connor's sister arrived on the scene. She promptly ushered me out, insisting that I get a good night's rest and let her take my place. I reluctantly followed orders and called Dr. M to ask to be picked up.

_"Sure, sweetheart,"_ she replied through the receiver. _"I'm surprised you stayed so long."_

"I just wanted to make sure he was okay," I explained curtly, trying not to sound sullen.

_"Well, that was very thoughtful of you - I'm sure he appreciated it. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes, okay?"_

"M'kay. Thanks, Dr. Martinez."

I hung up and pocketed the cheap cell phone, continuing my restless pacing by the large lobby window that Angel had told me looked out into a central courtyard. I ran my fingertips across the glass as I went, taking comfort in the dark tones I felt of the night outside. As the minutes drove on, I found myself pulled away deep in thought. _How long will it take for Connor to heal?_ I wondered. _What if he gets kicked out? Or, even worse, what if he doesn't get kicked out and they never let him see me again? _Okay, maybe that was selfish of me, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing him.

This was infuriating; just the entire situation, it was driving me crazy. Why couldn't Connor and I have just stayed in our own little world forever? Never questioned, relationship never threatened... It had been our secret, one that was so perfect and right in our eyes and that the rest of the world now wanted nothing more than to take away. _I liked it better when it was just us_, I thought wistfully.

Oh well. No going back now.

Later, after Dr. M had driven me home, I lay in bed wide-awake - for some reason, I just couldn't seem to finally drift off to sleep. It took me a while to figure out why.

The space beside me felt much too empty.

* * *

><p>Fang<p>

* * *

><p>For the next few days while Connor was at the hospital, Iggy refused to go to school, instead choosing to spend all day with his boyfriend while he recovered. Connor's sister would pick him up at about seven in the morning and bring him back as late as eleven or twelve that night, long after Dr. Martinez had ushered the rest of us to bed.<p>

I was wondering if I would ever see Iggy again, when Max decided we should all go rendezvous at the hospital after we got out of school. "I want to meet this guy Iggy's been spending so much time with," she huffed. "I'm gonna find out why he cares so much about a kid he met nine months ago."

"That's kind of a long time," I said, absentmindedly tracing my finger across the kitchen table in senseless patterns of boredom. "I mean, considering the people we meet usually sell us out or abandon us within a few weeks."

"Exactly!" Max exclaimed, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. "Just the fact that he's stuck around this long is suspicious. For all we know, this kid could be bad news. I know Itex is supposed to be taken care of, but there seems to always be someone itching to get their hands on us every time we have our backs turned. We've had it cozy for a while, but we can't just let our guard down."

I shrugged. "Okay, Max," I said passively. "Whatever you say, oh fearless leader."

"That's right," she replied approvingly. "And don't you forget it."

I knew that Max was likely to discover the boys' relationship, but I wasn't too concerned about it. Max wasn't particularly LGBT-supportive or homophobic - honestly, I don't think it mattered to her either way. In her own words, 'why should I care? I've got a pair of wings on my back, so I'm not about to go around judging people for who they're attracted to. That's just stupid'.

As for the others, Nudge would squeal with delight (in her mind, there were few things more adorable than 'boy love'), and Gazzy... well, I wasn't so sure about him. He'd probably be weirded out, courtesy of comments I'd made in the past, but he would get over it eventually - after all, his partner in crime hadn't changed.

The only thing that worried me about all this was the prospect of facing Connor myself. I wasn't sure how he would take to seeing me - I expected he'd be pretty mad, and I guess he had every right to be. And how would the flock react to hearing that I was responsible for his hospitalization? Max would totally chew me out for it, no doubt. But, I guess I had to take responsibility for it sometime, right?

It was settled. After school that day, Max's mom picked us all up and drove us to the hospital. As we approached Connor's room, I could faintly hear he and Iggy laughing together inside. Max strode confidently through the door, and as I slunk in behind her, I thought to myself, _no going back now_.

"Hey, guys!" Iggy said in a tone of pleasant surprise when he heard us come in. "What a coincidence - we were just talking about you."

"Yeah," Connor piped up from the hospital bed, where he was propped into a sitting position with a deck of cards strewn over his lap. He looked especially thin and frail in the baggy hospital gown, and the bruises were an even shockingly darker shade than before, but he looked happy. I did notice, however, that he was blatantly refusing to look in my direction, though I guess being ignored was preferable to getting into a shouting match, so that was good enough for me.

"James was just telling me how great your cooking is, Max!" He continued brightly, sifting through the cards in his hand and sorting them into piles on the sheets that must have made sense to him, but I thought seemed completely patternless. "You'll have to let me come over for dinner sometime."

The room cracked up into peals of laughter, and I could see Max caught between a smile and a disapproving scowl. Iggy had this innocent look on his face that wasn't convincing anyone, and Connor's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. "Um, did I miss something here, or..."

"Max is a _terrible_ cook," Nudge said amidst bursts of giggles.

"Thanks," Max grumbled.

"Well, you can't be worse than me," Connor offered with a grin, realizing the joke. "I tried to help my mom out with dinner one time... The memories are pretty hazy from all the smoke affecting my brain, but I _think_ I managed to burn the pot of water..."

It went on like this for a while, with the light conversation between Connor and the flock, while I stood invisible in the corner (heck, I might have actually been invisible, granted I was still enough). Everyone seemed to be getting along well, and I could see the doubt in Max's eyes fading as she laughed along with Connor at each particularly funny thing he said. It was friendly - comfortable, even - that is, until Nudge decided to jump into the conversation.

"So, Connor, I've been meaning to ask you," She began, bouncing on her heels eagerly, "what's your boyfriend's name?"

Connor's mood quickly shifted from happy and casual to a bit alarmed. "My... my what?" He said, flitting an inadvertent glance over to Iggy.

"James told me you're seeing a boy that goes to Eastview," Nudge replied brightly. "I told a couple of my friends about it, and they were wondering what his name was - they know practically all the cute high school guys' names by heart."

"I wasn't aware that James felt obligated to share that piece of information," he answered stiffly, and Iggy suddenly seemed to have committed himself to memorizing the pattern of the divider curtain that ran around the room, despite his inability to see it.

"Ooh, is it like a secret, then?" Nudge inquired delightedly. "Forbidden love... How romantic!"

"Uh, he's new at the school," Connor improvised hastily. "Foreign exchange student. You wouldn't know him."

"A foreign exchange student? I wonder if he's German - German accents are _so_ hot! But, French would be nice too; I mean it's the 'language of love' after all. I bet he has a bunch of cute foreign pet names for you, doesn't he? I saw this French guy call his girlfriend 'mon cheri' in a movie once, but I don't know what it means - it sounds adorable though, doesn-"

The Nudge Channel was promptly muted by Max's hand clamped over her mouth. "Alright, that's enough," she grumbled irritably. "Give the kid a break, it's none of your business anyway."

And then, just when I thought discovery had been averted, Angel prominently cleared her throat, obviously trying to attract our attention. "Monique, I can tell you who Connor's boyfriend is," she announced brightly.

Nudge's smile widened as Max removed her hand, and I could see the clear panic in Iggy's eyes. "Uh, that's really not necessary, Angel," he said anxiously. "Like Max said, it's none of your business."

"It is when it involves someone in the flock," Angel replied, smiling over at Iggy. "It's time you told them, Iggy - you can't keep secrets like this forever. Besides, no one will make a big deal out of it, and Fang already knows."

"Knows what?" Max asked suspiciously, sending me a sharp glance.

"James and Connor have been going steady since about a month into the school year," Angel stated matter-of-factly. "And no one should make a big deal about it, because they are both very happy and they love each other. Now, who wants cake from the cafeteria?"

There was a brief period of stunned silence that fell over the room, followed by an ear-piercing squeal from Nudge. "Oh my gosh, that's _so cute_!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down.

Max, ignoring Nudge's celebration said calmly, "James, we need to talk."

"I... I..." Iggy stammered, at a loss for words and looking incredibly anxious. Connor rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly to offer some sense of reassurance.

Max sighed. "It's okay, James. I can honestly say that I never expected this, but... I really don't care whether you like boys or girls; and neither does Nudge, as I'm sure you can tell, and Gazzy won't bug you about it unless he wants me to kick his skinny little behind into next week." Gazzy, who had been standing there gaping like a goldfish who was just told its brother was gay (apt metaphor, because I'm lazy) quickly shut his mouth and reverted his gaze to the floor. "Understand?"

"You... you mean that?" Iggy asked uncertainly, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

"Freaks like us stick together," Max replied with a smile.

This came as an obvious relief to Iggy. "Thank you Max, really," he said, placing a hand on top of Connor's, who looked rather happy for his boyfriend, if the huge grin on his face was any indication. "But then... what do we need to talk about?" He asked confusedly.

"It can wait till after lunch," Max said vaguely. "Now, I'm taking up Angel's offer for cake. Who's with me?"

* * *

><p>Iggy<p>

* * *

><p>Max pulled me aside just as the flock was finishing up our bland hospital lunch, and I quickly sifted through all the topics she could possibly want to discuss in my head. <em>Well, as long as she hasn't found out about me lighting her jeans on fire yet<em>, I thought, _I should be in the clear_. I honestly couldn't think of anything she'd want to talk to me about - so it was a bit of a surprise when she came up with this question:

"Does he know?"

I blinked in confusion. "Does who know what?"

"Your boyfriend," Max said exasperatedly. "Does he know about _us_? The wings?"

I got a sinking feeling in my chest. The answer to her question was a big, fat _no_. I'd kept everything a secret - the wings, my 'feel colors' ability, my past with the School and how I'd become blind - even my name and the names of my family. It felt terrible lying to him, but I couldn't think of anything else to do - I knew the moment I exposed myself for who I really was to him, nothing would ever be the same between us. How could it? The only reaction I had ever known from telling people I was a mutant was one of two things: rejection or betrayal. It was hard to suspect Connor of either, but the doubts were still there.

"I'm going to take your guilty silence as a 'no'," Max said with a sigh. "You know, Iggy, you're gonna have to tell him sometime - preferably before you two get into the next stage in your relationship and he finds out the hard way."

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, and replied, "That's not going to happen anytime soon, Max."

"_My point_ is, you can't build a partnership on half-truths," Max said, as I heard her tapping her fingers incessantly against the vending machine next to her out of hospital-anxiety (it was a known flock condition). "He needs to be able to trust you, and you need to trust that he won't turn on you. I know it's completely out of character for me to be giving relationship advice and encouraging you to spill our secret like this, but I feel like if he's been with you this long, he wouldn't chicken out after hearing you're a bird-kid. Besides, the longer you wait, the harder it'll hit him when he does find out."

I nodded. "I guess you have a point," I said reluctantly. "But... I don't want to lose him this way. I really think I love him, Max."

"I know you're scared," Max said softly. "I'd say there's something wrong with you if you weren't. But you have to tell him the truth - it'll all be so much better when you don't have to hide anything, I promise."

I realized she was right - think how much our relationship would improve if I could just be myself around Connor, feathers and all. I was still anxious about how he would react, but I knew it was something that had to be done. Steeling up all my courage, I thanked Max, and made my way down the halls (which I had nearly memorized) to Connor's room.

"Hey," I greeted him softly as I shut the door behind me.

"Aw, c'mon, no cake?" Connor asked in a mock pouty voice. "That's it, I don't think this relationship is going to work out, if you can't manage to get your boyfriend a piece of stale hospital cake."

I gave him a laugh that I hope didn't sound too anxious, and asked, "Um, hey, mind if I talk to you for a minute? It's... it's kinda important."

"Sure," he replied, and I could hear him scoot over and pat the sheets next to him invitingly. I took my place on the bed, leaning against the rail to face my boyfriend as I tried to somehow sort out my words in a way that didn't make me sound like I was totally certifiable. I figured I could always go with the Fang approach - be blunt - but I doubted any sane person would take me seriously if I just said 'hey, I've got wings. Cool, huh?'; then again, no sane person would believe me if I gave them a carefully articulated explanation either. So, I guessed the only real way to do it would be to prove it to him.

"Um, well... I don't really know how to put this..." I said slowly, feeling a buzz of anxious excitement running through me. "So I guess the best way would be... to just show you."

"Okay..." He said in a nonplussed tone.

With my heart thudding in my chest and pulsing through my ears loud enough that I was sure Connor could hear it too, I shrugged off my hoodie with shaking hands and said, "Now... you have to promise not to freak out." Taking a deep breath, I ever so slowly eased my wings through the slits in my shirt, and extended them slightly in the confined space of the hospital room.

_"Holy Sh-!"_

I quickly smacked a hand over his mouth before he could finish, knowing there were likely nurses roaming the halls just outside the room and worried they would come to investigate. "Shush, Connor, don't freak out," I hissed, "you need to be calm. Okay?"

I felt him nod tentatively, and I slowly removed my hand from his mouth. "You..." Connor began shakily. "You have... wings."

"Yeah," I replied with a nervous laugh.

"How...?"

"Just listen, I can explain," I said. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I promise I'm telling the truth."

And then I told him my story from the beginning. I told him about the School, how we were forced to sleep in cages and were run through countless grueling and cruel tests, how the whitecoats stole my sight and the day when Jeb took us away to live with him in the E-shaped house. I told him about when Jeb deserted us and we were hunted down by the School once again, how we struggled with a life on the run (I left out the details about all the world saving and stuff because I figured there was only so much unrealistic information Connor could handle at once). I eventually got around to the part when we moved in with Dr. Martinez and she enrolled us in school, thus ending the explanation with a long lapse into silence as Connor processed it all.

"So," he finally said, as I heard him begin to pick at the paper hospital bracelet that adorned his thin wrist, his hands restless as they always were when he was thinking or nervous - a subconscious habit we both shared. "Let me get this straight. You and your family were all mutated at birth and were given wings by wacko scientists. You can fly."

"Uh-huh."

"And, even though you're blind, you fight like an MMA star and blow stuff up on a regular basis with your own homemade explosives."

"Yep."

"So, basically you're the coolest boyfriend ever, and you never even _told me about it_?"

I was quite startled by this statement. Of all the things I'd pictured Connor labeling me as after this, 'coolest boyfriend ever' had probably fallen at the bottom of the list of possibilities. All I could manage for a response was a bewildered, "Huh?"

Connor let out a groaning sigh. "You know, you really are a bit dense sometimes," he said. "What, did you think I would reject you?"

"Well... yeah," I admitted incredulously. "I thought you'd say I was a freak."

"I've been called a freak nearly my whole life," Connor said. "But, this... this is kind of incredible."

I let my eyebrows raise. "You think so?"

"Of course."

And there it was. The acceptance I had been hoping for, but never dared expect. Connor knew I had wings. He knew all about my life, my family - and he _didn't care_. My heart swelled with elated relief. Even after all that, I hadn't lost my boyfriend - and that was probably the best I could ever hope for.

I realized I could practically sense Connor's gaze on one of my wings, and, feeling a bit awkward and self-conscious, I extended it closer to him and asked, "Did you... want to touch it?"

"Uh, yeah," he muttered sheepishly. I felt him reach a tentative hand to rest lightly on the crest of my wing, and I sat completely still as I permitted him to stroke the feathers gently with an atmosphere of quiet awe. "They're... they're really beautiful," he breathed subconsciously.

Aw, shucks.

As he continued to pet me to his heart's content, I let my eyes drift closed, secretly enjoying the soothing sensation of the fingers running over my feathers. Absentmindedly, I had begun to lean into his touch, and Connor giggled.

Wait, whoa - Connor _giggled_? "You're practically purring," he chortled, moving to scratch my wing near the base, eliciting shivers down my spine.

"Feels good," I murmured, leaning my head against his shoulder with a soft smile.

"So, this is what you've been hiding," Connor went on, working the knots out of my stiff wing muscles with deft hands. "I always felt there was something different about you," he said. "Something special. But this is way cooler than I ever thought... I mean, you can _fly_. That's crazy."

"Yup," I concurred. "It's a pretty sweet bonus. Of course, there's downsides - you have to figure out how to hide them from everyone, and there's always bad guys hunting you down. These past months, with you... I'd say it's been the closest thing to normal I've ever really had."

"Dating a guy? That's your normal?" He asked incredulously. "Wow, your life's more messed up than I thought."

"Yeah," I said. "But it's fun, most of the time. Never really a dull moment."

Connor laughed. "I bet."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, as he kneaded my wings into submission and I pondered this new development in our relationship. _What now?_ I wondered. I decided to voice my concerns, wanting to hear Connor's opinion. "What does this mean?" I asked absentmindedly. "How does this change things?"

Connor, always full of surprises, responded, "It doesn't. This doesn't change a thing about the way I see you."

"You're just saying that," I told him.

"No, really, it doesn't," he persisted. "Feathers, fur, scales - it doesn't matter. I've got it bad for you regardless, and no matter what you look like or what you can or cannot do, it doesn't make a difference. The truth is... I love you, James. Wings and all."

Another twinge in my heart at the mention of the word 'love', and I had no reply other than, "I love you too. And thanks." He ceased to pet me and wrapped his arms around me loosely, pulling me into a hug.

"You're welcome."

Suddenly I realized something. "Oh, and Connor?" I said, as he rested his head on my shoulder, lazily tracing circles over my collarbone with his finger.

"Hmm?"

"I forgot to tell you one more thing."

"What's that, James?" He asked absentmindedly.

"My name's not really James," I admitted, and he pulled away.

"What do you mean, your name's not James?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, it sorta is," I explained. "I mean, it's the name my parents gave me. But my whole family calls me Iggy."

"Iggy..." He repeated, mulling it over. He let out a brief laugh. "It kinda suits you. I like it."

"Thanks," I said smugly. "Came up with it myself. My birthday too - February thirteenth."

Connor snorted. "That's the most miserable month of the year," he said, and I crossed my arms across my chest.

"I was the only one that picked a winter birthday," I said defensively. "Besides, I like snow." _Sometimes I can see in it_, I added to myself.

"I don't," Connor quipped grouchily, moody as always. "Puffins live in the snow. I think."

I let an eyebrow quirk up questioningly. "Puffins?" I asked bemusedly. "Like, the little penguin things?"

"They're creepy."

I laughed. "How are they creepy?" I chortled.

"They just are, man!" He protested, which only provoked me to crack up further.

Suddenly, I heard the door-handle click and the entrance to the room swing open, and I immediately snapped my wings against my back, scrambling for a pillow or something to cover myself with as I knew I couldn't work them back through the holes in my shirt fast enough. I cursed my stupid carelessness, hoping against hope that no one had seen...

"Hey, chill out Iggy, it's me." I recognized Max's voice, and released a sigh of relief, sheepishly setting the pillow I had snatched back in it's rightful place on the bed. "So," she went on, "I heard you laughing like an idiot in here and figured it was safe to assume that everything worked out. I guess that means you're cool with all this then, Connor...?" She trailed off hopefully.

"Yeah," Connor replied. "I mean, I'll be honest, it's totally blowing my mind, but... I think it's way cool, you know, the wings. I'm sorry you had to go through all that crap when you were kids, though," he added in a softer voice. "It sounds terrible."

"Well, you'll be the first to actually care about any of that stuff," Max said truthfully. "All we usually get is either a pitchfork mob or a bunch of 'oohs' and 'aahs' for our wings. No one wants to listen to our sob stories, I guess."

"Wait, so other people know?" Connor said incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Max said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Never heard of Fang's Blog?"

"Of course," Connor replied, "but I thought that's like, you know, some kind of fictional project someone with way too much time on their hands just made up. You mean Nick writes that?"

Max sighed. "Obviously our CSM interview didn't make national coverage like they promised," she grumbled. "I guess it's for the best, though - it would really suck if we had to deal with our freak status at school."

"No kidding," I agreed. "It's bad enough people are starting to make connections about Connor and I; throwing wings into the mix would just be too much."

And that's when things started to get complicated.

The door was eased open once more, and I had barely a second to conceal my wings; I ended up quickly backing myself against the headboard, and was scrambling to zip up my hoodie just as two sets of unfamiliar footsteps came waltzing in. I heard a vicious hiss from one of them, and for a moment I suspected angry feline hybrids (hey, with a track record like ours, we've kind of come to expect these things), but soon received the terrifying realization that I had met the particular person just a few days before - it was none other than Banshee Lady.

"_You _again," Connor's mother spat. "I though I told you to stop associating with my son!" Aw, she remembered me.

"Mrs. Hayes," I greeted in a sugary voice dripping with sarcasm, "so lovely to hear your dulcet tones again."

"Mom, Dad," Connor said in an anxious voice, "what are you doing here?"

"They have agreed to let us check you out of the hospital, Thaddeus," a voice said stiffly, which must have belonged to Connor's father. "We're going home to discuss your punishment."

I winced inwardly; I prayed that this 'punishment' wouldn't involve more physical abuse being inflicted on my boyfriend. If he got hurt again just because of me... well, it was possibly a good thing I didn't have to worry about looking myself in the mirror.

"Hold up, hold up," Max said, "what exactly is going on here?"

Banshee Lady, who seemed to have just noticed Max's presence in the room, said to her son enthusiastically, "Look at her, sweetie. See? Isn't she pretty?"

"_Mom_," Connor groaned, but she just cut him off.

"Isn't she?"

"Well, yeah, I guess..." He replied slowly. "But it's not like I'm attracted to her or anything."

"So you're saying that you are attracted to this boy?" His father demanded, his temper rising.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Connor replied bravely, and I thought blankly to myself, _I'm attractive?_ "If all you guys hadn't barged in," he continued, "I'd want to be making out with him right n-"

"That's enough!" His dad exclaimed sharply. "You may never kiss that boy, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Connor responded coldly. "Now, who's gonna stop me?"

And then, in a pure act of reckless rebellion, he turned and caught my chin in his hand, kissing me full on the lips with as much passion as he could muster. If Nudge had been there, she probably would have fainted; I was feeling a bit lightheaded myself, if not for the lack of air then for the utterly elated, mindless pleasure swimming through my brain, muddling every thought with the feeling of Connor's soft lips and warm hands encircled desperately around my neck. Just as he'd begun to tilt his head further, deepening the wonderful kiss, a rough force tore him away, and a rather loud _smack_ was heard; it took me a moment to register that Connor's father had hit him.

"We're going home," Connor's dad said, his voice shaking with fury. "Put your clothes on and follow us to the car. You and I are going to have a nice, long _chat_. Understand?"

I heard Connor swallow anxiously, exhaling a quivering breath. He was scared, that much was obvious - and I had an idea why. The way the man had said 'chat' made me sick to my stomach, and I got the feeling Connor would be forced to suffer a second beating after he had barely recovered from the first.

Well, not if I had any say in it.

"No," I said firmly, placing my hand protectively on my boyfriend's shoulder. "He's not going anywhere with you." Max apparently supported me in this statement because she moved to stand by my side, and I could sense the notorious Maximum Ride Death Glare she was giving Mr. and Mrs. Hayes.

"He's my son, I'll do with him as I please," Mr. Hayes growled, then turned to snap at Connor, "Hurry up, Thaddeus."

Connor reluctantly pulled away from my hand, and leaned over to grab his pile of clothes from the bedside table to change into. When his feet landed softly on the floor and his weight disappeared from the bed, I could hear him hiss in pain - I wasn't too familiar with the rate at which full humans heal, but I knew he had to still be sore and achy from the countless bruises, and standing didn't exactly help matters. I immediately got up and wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him, but once again he was torn away from me.

"He doesn't need your help!" Banshee Lady all but shrieked. "You keep your hands off of him, understand?"

"This isn't fair!" I protested. "He's better off with me!"

"Don't listen to him, sweetie," Mrs. Hayes muttered, presumably to Connor, "he's only trying to corrupt you."

"Corrupt him?" I shouted incredulously. "What, by making sure he doesn't fall over? Were you both dropped on your heads when you were babies? 'Cause this whole thing about giving him 'gay disease' or whatever has got to be the stupidest logic I've ever heard!"

But Connor's mom had already ushered her son into the bathroom to change, and brushed past me to press the emergency button by the hospital bed, announcing into the intercom to the nurses on the other side, "Security, we're in room 146, and there are two highly dangerous teens here that keep trying to attack my son! Please, do something!"

"What the heck are you doing?" Max demanded. "We didn't hurt him, you did!"

"You shut your mouth, young lady," Mr. Hayes commanded sharply.

"First of all, no one calls me 'young lady'," Max growled darkly. "And second, you _don't_ tell me what to do." She made a threatening step towards Mr. Hayes, and I had to refuse the instinct to find a hiding place under the bed; that tone meant someone was about to get hurt, and something told me it wasn't going to be Max.

As if on cue, the door swung open once more, and I was greeted with the familiar sound of Fang's muted footsteps. "I heard shouting," he explained tensely. "Max, what's going on here? Who are they?"

"They're two ignorant morons who are about to get their butts whooped, that's who they are," Max quipped angrily.

"Security!" Connor's mom screeched again.

"Can it, lady!"

"Guys, it's okay," I heard a soft voice say as the bathroom door creaked open. The sound of Connor's old over-worn converse shuffling against the linoleum brought back memories of him standing on my toes in secluded corners of school campus to share a quick kiss before class, of him walking by my side as we chatted aimlessly about everything and nothing at all, always finding something to laugh about. This was the boy to whom I had committed all the love I knew how to give, and who had returned it just as freely - this was the boy I thought I couldn't live without, I _refused_ to lose. I couldn't just give him up so easily now, not after everything he had come to mean to me. I decided right then and there that this had to be stopped.

"No, it's not okay, and you know it," I said. "You can't just give up like this!"

"What else am I going to do?" Connor said dejectedly. "I have to go home sometime."

"Yes, and _today_ would be nice," Connor's dad said impatiently. "Come on, let's go." I heard him grasp Connor's shoulder and begin to steer him away, but I grabbed Connor's other arm, refusing to let him go.

"No," I protested, "you're not going to take him. He belongs with someone who actually loves him!"

"I love my son," Mr. Hayes said coldly. Without another word, he yanked Connor out of my grasp and swept out of the room just as several heavyset male nurses (apparently the hospital's excuse for a 'security' team) flooded in, ordering us to leave. In all the confusion, Connor was pulled away out of earshot, and no matter how I strained my ears to locate him, not a familiar footstep could be heard. Just like that, I had lost my boyfriend.

* * *

><p>The next morning, I attended my first day of school since Connor was hospitalized. The word was out, as I'm sure the football team (who were each punished with nothing more than suspension and a stern talking-to for participating in nearly beating an innocent boy to death) felt obliged to share - James Martinez was the new resident queer.<p>

I think it's pretty safe to consider that day as one of the worst of my life. When they wanted to, those kids could be crueler than I'd ever thought to give them credit for - torments included, but were not limited to being tripped in the halls, becoming the object of countless sneering, vicious jokes and comments (sometimes they had the decency to say it to my face, but often the ridicule was held in private conversations behind my back - within earshot, of course), being slammed against the lockers without warning amidst cries of 'faggot' and 'freak', and being ambushed by a sadistic group of girls in the boy's bathroom. While two guys gladly agreed to hold me down, the girls took turns kissing me and slipping their hands up my shirt just to watch me squirm in discomfort and laugh when I told them to stop; they didn't. It was one of the weirdest, most uncomfortable experiences of my life - like what I imagined it would feel like being kissed by one of the flock.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

There'd been no sign of Connor all that day at school, and while the humiliation dragged on, he was always at the back of my mind, a persistent worry gnawing at my subconscious. I zoned out during class, wondering anxiously what his father must have done to keep him home from school like this; there was no doubt in my mind that his parents had something to do with his absence, and I knew his involvement couldn't mean anything good for Connor or our relationship. I had this horrible, ominous feeling slowly twisting knots in my stomach as my anxiety rose - throughout the day, I could only cling to the naive hope that my boyfriend wouldn't be harmed. Again.

Unexpectedly, Connor met up with me as I was finally exiting the school - though not with the swift, inconspicuous kiss and easy spring into conversation I'd come to associate with the end of a long school day. I soon discovered why, as I heard his shuffling footsteps approaching, flagged by the sharp heels of his mom and heavy gait of his father. My heart sunk; it didn't take a genius to figure out this meant bad news.

Connor kept his distance - he knew that when I had no link of physical contact, it was usually difficult for me to decipher what someone else was feeling. For the first time, he was blocking me out. "Connor?" I said uncertainly. "Hey, what's wrong? Why weren't you at school?"

"This will be easier if you just don't talk, okay?" He said hollowly. "There's... there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay..." I replied, not sure I liked where this was going. He paused to take a stabilizing breath before continuing quietly.

"James... I can't be with you anymore."

This took a moment to settle in. Though he had asked me not to talk, I broke in anyway. "Wait, you mean... Not as a couple?

"No," he said flatly. "I mean I can't be with you. At all. I'm being transferred to Eastview... We'll never see each other again."

Though I could tell he was trying desperately to conceal his emotions, his voice quivered and broke at the end of this statement. And then it all clicked into place - his parents were making him do this. Why else would they be there?

"No," I protested harshly, shooting a furious glare at where I thought Connor's dad stood. "You can't make him do this! You're not going to just take him away!"

"We can and we will," the man replied sternly. "It's time Thaddeus associated himself with better influences."

"News flash, moron," I spat, "Eastview is the gayest school in a hundred mile radius. He'd find another guy in a heartbeat." The idea made me a bit queasy, and I quickly pushed that thought aside. "Besides, do you really think transferring him to a different school will make him straight?" I asked in disbelief.

"He _is_ straight," Banshee Lady said coldly. "He just doesn't realize it, thanks to you. It's your fault for corrupting him!"

"I swear, you people treat it like it's a disease!" I said exasperatedly. "It's not _contagious_. I can't force him to be gay any more than you can force someone to be straight."

"He was a good boy!" Connor's mom exclaimed indignantly. "He liked girls the way a boy should! And then he met you, and that's when all this confusion started."

"Okay, first of all, Connor never liked girls," I said flatly. "He told me that he forced himself to pretend like he did, tried to convince himself he was attracted to them, but he's always been gay. Always. He officially came out in middle school; not like he told you anything."

Banshee Lady huffed in frustration. "Come on, sweetie," she urged Connor, "let's go home. You don't have to listen to this liar."

"But it's the truth!" Connor protested angrily.

"Thaddeus," Connor's father warned sharply. "Don't talk back to your mother."

"I love him!" Connor burst out, on the verge of tears. "Why can't you understand that? Why can't you let me just be happy for once?"

"Dear, we're only doing what's best for you," His mom said gently, her voice dripping with insincere sympathy.

"When have you ever done what's best for me?" Connor demanded spitefully. "When have you ever really cared about what _I _want? I finally found someone who doesn't just pretend to love me, and all you want to do is tear me away from him!"

"Honey, _we _love you," Connor's mom offered. Connor was silent.

"Come on, son," Connor's father said stiffly, and I heard the slightest brush of skin against cotton as he placed his hand on his Connor's shoulder. Connor immediately pulled away, and began walking briskly in the opposite direction without a word. I heard a car door slam, and his unspoken meaning was clear; end of discussion. We had really lost before the fight even began.

Connor's dad let out a sigh, before saying to me darkly, "You will stay away from him, understand? Don't contact him, and do not try to look for him, or I'll call the police."

And with those kind words of parting, he and his wife turned and made their way to the parking lot, climbing into their car and starting up the engine. I could do nothing but stand there as the vehicle pulled out of the school gates and raced away down the interstate, and ignoring the students filing out of the school around me, I sat down right there on the steps and put my head in my hands. Hope had been scarce before, but the chances of a happy ending had kept me from giving up - now, it felt as if hope had pretty much been extinguished.

All I could think was that I regretted not telling Connor that I loved him back; that may have been my last chance.

* * *

><p>The following weeks flowed together into one blurry slur of subconscious days and sleepless nights. I would lie awake in bed, staring up at a ceiling I couldn't see, playing back memories of him in my head and uselessly thinking about how unfair it all was. I drifted through each day just going through the motions, wondering if I would ever find someone that could make me as happy as he did. Though I tried desperately not to let thoughts of him consume me, he was still the first thing on my mind when I woke up in the morning, and the last word before I fell asleep. I missed Connor like I miss my sight, which meant I was one seriously lonesome dude.<p>

The rest of the flock picked up on my doom-and-gloom attitude, and I think it was bumming everyone else out, too. They didn't have to ask to know what had happened between Connor and I - when he didn't show up at school for a couple weeks, and I wasn't calling for an emergency search party, I'm pretty sure everyone just assumed we'd broken up. But, I guess that was good news for the other students, right? One less queer to complain about.

Damon never came back to school either. Maybe our 'fun' in the band room had just been too much for the poor guy to handle, and he could've asked to be transferred to Eastview too, where there was a wide variety of less feathery boys to molest. Or perhaps he'd had the nerve to tell someone his discovery, and they'd made a nice room for him in the nut house. Whatever the case, I was just glad I wouldn't have to hear his stupid voice again; I could've sworn I could still taste his tongue-scum in my mouth.

With the end of the school year fast approaching, I realized I didn't know what the heck I was going to do with so much free time - a month ago, that Summer was meant for lazy afternoons in the sun with a certain catholic boy, ice-cream kisses and Ferris wheels, all the cliché couples fun reserved for school vacation - now, all I saw was more time to sit around and feel sorry for myself. Not exactly every kid's summer fantasy. Maybe I could just find myself a platypus and build stuff in the backyard to pass the time like they did on TV...

_I don't want a platypus_, I thought sourly, as I sat in class pretending to listen to my Social Studies teacher drone on and on. _I want my fricking boyfriend_.

Fang was seated at the desk beside me, and I could hear his pencil scratching across a piece of scrap paper as he doodled who knows what - probably a bunch of gothic skulls, or possibly Max in a bikini. But his progress was stilled as a hushed whisper drifted up from a couple desks below in the theater arrangement of the classroom, and I paused in my train of thought to listen in on the conversation as well.

"Yeah, my cousin goes to Eastview," they were saying. "He said that Hayes kid just transferred there a few weeks ago."

I suddenly snapped into attention, straining my ears to listen more closely, hanging onto every word. Finally, here was my chance to hear how Connor was doing!

"Oh yeah? I bet he's right at home there - I hear they even have some kind of gay club."

"Yeah, well, my cousin was totally surprised to hear the guy was gay - apparently he talks about girls, like, all the time."

"What?"

"But that's not even half of it - my cousin was a bit concerned, he said the kid's always covered in bruises..."

"Weird. What do ya' think's up with that?"

"I don't know. But my cousin said the teachers all see the issue, but no one does anything about it. One of these days, he's gonna wind up back in the hospital..."

I had a sickening sinking feeling in my stomach. My deepest fears for Connor had been confirmed: not only were his parents still influencing him, even at school, but they were hurting him too. Something had to be done about this - I couldn't just stand by and mope around while the boy I loved got beat up in his own home.

It didn't take long for the bell to ring, signifying the end of my last class, at which time I immediately leapt up from my desk, anxious to come to my MIA boyfriend's rescue. As I dumped my stuff into my bag carelessly and Fang gathered up his own papers beside me, he muttered, "I know what you're thinking. But... I think it's time for you to just let him go, Ig."

I chose to ignore that comment. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I slipped past the rows of desks and chatting students and made my way out the door and down the halls, keeping alert of the sea of noise around me to guide my way. Recognizing familiar footsteps trotting behind me to catch up, I sighed, ignoring them and pushing myself forward faster. If I flew, I could probably make it to Connor's house in half the time it took his sister to drive; now if only I could remember the route...

"James!" Fang called, pushing past the rest of the student body to reach me. "Hey, where are you going? You're being stupid about this!"

"Do yourself a favor, Nick," I responded, "and shut up."

I arrived outside the front entrance of the school, clearing the stairs down two at a time and taking a sharp left - there was an area behind the school where Max once said a quick U-and-A wouldn't be spotted in case of an emergency (and this certainly fell under that category). I took off at a run towards the designated takeoff spot, making a quick count of my steps as I went and blocking out whatever Fang was running his mouth about behind me. In retrospect, I realized that I should've been paying more attention, because he was probably trying to warn me about-

_Wham._ I sprinted head-on into the tall dumpster, and was left sprawling on the pavement with such an intense pounding in my skull, I thought for a moment that I was going to pass out. "Ow," I moaned.

Fang rushed up beside me, letting out a sigh. "Iggy, what have we told you about running around without a guide?" He chided, as if I were a five-year-old that needed to hold mommy's hand all the time. _Connor never made me feel helpless like this_, I thought bitterly. I bit back a sarcastic retort, struggling to pull myself to my feet and bringing a hand to my throbbing temple to assess the damage. On the plus side, there was no blood, but I did have a pretty nasty knot forming. Fantastic.

"Come on, Iggy, let's go home," Fang said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to support me as I stood doubled over in dizzying pain, carefully steering me around to begin walking towards the parking lot.

"No," I protested weakly. "Have to... find Connor."

"You can find him later," Fang said dismissively. "Right now you need to go home, lie down, and put some ice on that thing 'cause it's starting to gross me out."

Since I could hardly even walk on my own, I was forced to admit that Fang did have a point - I was in no condition to fly at the moment, and I certainly wouldn't be of any use to Connor with my forehead swelling up like a grapefruit as it were (I just hope it didn't look as freaky as that sounded). Dang, this was frustrating...

Dr. M's van was waiting for us in the parking lot. I reluctantly climbed into the backseat (or rather, Fang dumped me back there like a sack of potatoes), and Max's mom sped us home before even stopping to pick up the other kids, fussing over me the entire drive like the sweet mother hen that she was. I soon found myself stretched out on the living room couch holding a bag of frozen peas to my forehead, completely tuning out the sound of the cartoon blaring on the television and focusing instead on my restless worry for Connor. I could only picture the way his skin had felt all those weeks ago, multicolored with more bruises than I could count (or that I dared find); I wondered, if I could reach him now, if his skin would feel the same as it had then.

As it turns out, Max's mom could be as intimidating as a dozen Erasers when it came down to the wellbeing of her kids - the moment I tried to sneak away to the backyard after dinner for an inconspicuous U-and-A, I was promptly marched right back into the house and sent to my room to rest with another bag of frosted vegetables. Since I had a suspicion that Dr. M was keeping a watchful eye on my bedroom door from the kitchen, I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere until morning. So, for about another six hours I lay on my bed, wide-awake and bored out of my mind.

No matter how I tried to distract myself, Connor was all I could think about. Had he gone to bed that night with a few new bruises, dreading the next morning when he would have to face his parents before going off to school, where he would do nothing but lie to conceal his identity and try whatever means to make his dad proud? Was _that_ all he had to look forward to for the next three years, until he turned eighteen and had to fend for himself in a world nearly as harsh as the one he would leave?

I clenched the sheets tighter in my hands, pulling them more securely around me as I buried my face in my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut, muttering under my breath in frustration. "This sucks."

Suddenly, I heard a sharp tap on my window. I bolted into a sitting position, disentangling myself from the sheets and straining my ears intently for any other sound. There it was again - like a tiny projectile bouncing off the surface of the glass from the outside. _Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick._

"What the..." I mumbled, throwing the sheets aside and stepping out of bed cautiously, wondering who the heck would be tossing stuff at my window at one in the morning. I slowly made my way to the window, unlatching it and shoving it up as quietly as I could. "Hey, what's the big idea?" I hissed out to the perp, and for a moment there was silence; I was starting to wonder if the jerk had run away, when a familiar voice answered me.

"Hey, Iggy."

My heart leapt into my throat in shock. "... Connor?"

"Who else?" He hissed back. "C'mon, help me up."

Pushing my initial surprise aside, I eagerly reached out and gave him a hand, and his slight frame was able to squeeze through the small window, though he did manage to topple gracelessly to the floor. I winced at the noise - hopefully no one had heard. Connor groaned ruefully, rubbing the back of his head, though I could sense he was smiling. "I missed you," he admitted.

"Me too," I replied, and without hesitation pulled him into a hug, wrapping my arms around him tightly, just to make sure he didn't suddenly vanish. "Gosh, Connor, I missed you so much."

He embraced me as well, though I felt him give a barely perceptible wince and a sharp intake of breath, as if in pain; releasing him, I asked, "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he responded easily. Sensing my suspicion, he added, "Just fell off the wrong side of the windowsill."

Uh-huh. I knew there was more to it than that, but I decided to let it slide for the moment. "What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to pull my hands away from him, grasping his shoulders as if to anchor us to the ground; it felt as though it had been eternities since I'd last heard his voice, it was hard to believe be was actually there. "How'd you find our house?"

I felt Connor shrug. "Phonebook," he explained simply. "There were only two Martinez's, and I figured you and your six brothers and sisters didn't live in the trailer park. As soon as I found the chance, I snuck out my bedroom window and walked here."

"This is crazy," I breathed. "I was about to go look for your house myself after school today, but I hit my head and Dr. M made me crash here all afternoon."

"Seriously? How come you were looking for me too?"

"Some girls were talking in class," I replied, lowering my voice. "Connor... How are things at home?"

"Fine," was all he said.

"And school?" I prodded.

"Fine."

That was it. No more beating around the bush. "Connor, I know what's been going on," I said sternly. "Those girls, they said someone saw you covered in bruises at school. Not to mention the fact that you act like a girl-crazed womanizer. Please, just talk to me." The room was silent for several moments. Then, Connor said something unexpected.

"My parents kicked me out."

I was shocked; no, I was furious. "_What_?" I nearly shouted, forgetting I had to be quiet and immediately lowering my voice. "How could they do that? Why?"

"They set me up on a date with this girl that goes to our church," he explained, sounding bitter. "I went, because I didn't want my dad to get angry... You know how he is. Well, the whole time she kept trying to make a move on me, and I wouldn't let her get within two feet of me. But, as we were heading home - she's sixteen, so she was driving - she pulled into a dark parking lot, and said she would tell everyone at school I was gay unless I let her do what she wanted."

I gaped in horror. "What did you do?"

"Told her no, of course," Connor replied. "I got the heck out of that car and walked home. But I guess she meant what she said, 'cause by lunch the next day, everyone knew. It wasn't nearly as bad as when I came out at middle school - I got a lot of encouragement from the other students, and a couple guys even started hitting on me..." At a look from me, he hurriedly added, "I turned them down, of course. But it was really refreshing, you know? So many people just accepted me. That's hardly ever happened before."

"So what was the problem?" I asked. "Why'd you get kicked out?"

"Because the priest's son from our church goes to Eastview," Connor replied. "He told his dad, who immediately called my parents to confirm if it was true. Let's just say they weren't too happy with me after that..."

He trailed off, and a wave of sympathy came over me for my long-lost boyfriend, and I pulled him into another hug. Not knowing what else to say, I muttered, "I'm sorry, Connor." I really meant it.

"What am I gonna do now?" Connor said in a small voice, whether to me or to himself, I wasn't sure.

I just wish I had an answer better than, "I don't know."

Just as the words had left my mouth, the door swung open, and in strode the near-silent footsteps of Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome himself. "Iggy, it's late," he muttered groggily, "what're you d-" He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the sight of me and my distraught boyfriend hugging it out by the open window, and his mouth audibly snapped shut.

"Uh, hey Fang," I said awkwardly over Connor's shoulder. "Look who stopped by."

* * *

><p>Fang<p>

* * *

><p>Before I could ask what the heck Connor - whom I hadn't seen in weeks - was doing in Iggy's bedroom at two in the morning, I saw Dr. Martinez ahead of me, shuffling down the hall to investigate decked out in her fuzzy robe, slippers and Harry Potter-esque glasses she wore at night. "Fang?" She called softly. "What in the world are you doing out of bed at a time like this?" She froze outside the door, and peered in at the boys through her bottle-cap lenses, who broke away when they saw her. "Iggy?" She said, a little alarmed. "Who is this?"<p>

"His boyfriend," Connor answered bluntly, sparing no time or Dr. M's expense. The poor woman gaped at him.

"... Did I miss something here?" She asked, aghast.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Martinez," Iggy said apologetically, sending Connor a look. "I should've told you sooner, but..."

"No... That's okay," she replied with a sigh. "I don't care, Iggy. I'll support you no matter who you choose to date."

"Thank you," Iggy said, sounding relieved.

"That doesn't mean you're off the hook," Dr. M continued sternly. "Tell me what he's doing in your bedroom in the middle of the night."

"Well, see... It's not what it looks like," Iggy insisted hurriedly. "It's just... Connor's parents kicked him out of the house, and he needed a place to stay."

"Oh... Oh, dear..."

A weird knotted feeling twisted its way into my stomach. I looked at Connor for the first time since he was released from the hospital, and realized I genuinely felt sorry for the guy - sorry for the situation with his parents, and once again, sorry for what I allowed to happen to him on top of that. What I _caused_ to happen to him. I don't think I'd ever felt so bad for anyone in my life, or so freaking guilty for what I'd done. And I think that's when all the resentment I might have still held for Connor just melted away. He needed a home, and he needed a loving, accepting family... And, well, I knew that was one thing I could give to him.

"Connor," I said quietly from the doorway, and he looked up at me with an unreadable expression, as if testing what I was about to say. Steeling myself, I continued with the words I knew he needed to hear. "Connor, would you like to stay here?"

"You mean... for the night?" He asked, confused.

I shook my head. "No. I mean, would you like to live here with us."

For a split second, something like distrust flickered in his eyes. But after several long moments of considering the intentions of my offer, he finally said, "That's really nice of you, but I don't want to be a burden to anyone..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dr. Martinez said warmly. "Fang's right, we would love to have you in our home. As for being a burden, I have seven kids living here already, one more won't make much difference. Of course, you wouldn't be sleeping in Iggy's room; I would offer you the couch to sleep on, but it is a bit small..."

"I have a futon in my room," I offered. I had been saving up for it for months, for when I had friends over. Now I had a chance to finally put it to good use.

"That... That would be great," Connor said slowly, relief shining in his eyes. "Nick... I mean, Fang... Thank you. I didn't know where else to go, so you really have no idea how much this means to me."

"No problem," I replied, giving him a small smile. "After all, any friend of Iggy's is a friend of mine... In a different way, of course, but you know..."

"Yeah," Connor said, returning my smile with a grin. "Thanks."

And that was the night we gained the third non-mutant member of our dysfunctional mutant family... Not to mention one really awesome friend.

* * *

><p>Iggy<p>

* * *

><p>I thought it would be weird living with Connor in a family type setting, as if he might drift into the "friend zone" as he became more settled into our home, but truthfully, we'd never been closer. The more I learned more about him and the more he learned about me, the more sure we became that what we felt for each other was love and not just some teen crush. We talked more, as well as spent more time with the rest of the flock. As they got to know him, I think they all grew to think of Connor as part of the family; even that traitor Fang had a change of heart.<p>

Fang took his role as Connor's new roommate to heart, and, surprisingly enough, developed a close friendship with him over the first several months of his stay with us. I wasn't worried about it; after all, Connor had shared with me once that I was "definitely way hotter than Fang," so I trusted that friendship was all it was. Fang had Max, anyway.

Once, as Connor and I were folding some of the flock's laundry (just one of the many chores Dr. M enforced around the house), we got to talking about Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, and what Connor planned to do after high school. He said he wanted to go to university, but his college fund was still in his parents' bank account, so he would try as hard as he could to earn a scholarship instead.

"Maybe you could talk to them," I suggested, haphazardly folding one of Fang's shirts (guess which color). "I mean, what else are they going to do with that money?"

"Probably give it to my sister," Connor replied, pulling another article of clothing from the basket with a sharp crackle of static. "She's planning to get a masters degree in medical school, so she could really use whatever extra funding she can get. Besides, they'll have no problem spending it on the kid with a catholic school diploma and perfectly straight boyfriend." The tone of his voice was light and casual, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to detect the bitterness behind his words.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "If it weren't for me, you'd still have a real family, and all your stuff, and a clear shot to college... I ruined everything for you."

"Iggy, the only thing you've done for me was make my life ten times better," Connor said dismissively.

"But how will you ever go back now?" I demanded, trying to make him realize how badly I'd screwed everything up.

"I'm not going back," Connor replied firmly. "If my parents can't accept who I am and the people I love, then I'll make a life of my own where I can finally be happy for once, and not have to live my life up to someone else's expectations. I don't need their big fancy house or college fund if all it comes down to is an iron set of rules and the fear of getting beat up when I fall short. Your family's offered me freedom, Iggy, for the first time in my life. That, and being with you... I couldn't ask for better."

I gave him a smile, and said sarcastically, "I guess we won't need to make that trip to Canada after all."

"Nah," he agreed. "Way overrated. Besides, I think I found my happily ever after right here."

* * *

><p><strong>Aww, cheesy ending. x3<strong>

**Well, that was my first real 'romance' type fic, so I apologize if it was sappy or unrealistic - I've never been in that kind of relationship anyway. Also, I have to confess that I don't have any gay friends or know any LGBT people personally, so that might've been another setback - not to mention I don't go to public school... So yeah, this fic was just one big experiment for me.**

**Please review! I've been working on this thing so long, I've been absolutely dying for feedback. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoyed it! :D**

**P.S. If anyone can guess the two minor OC's that were based off of real people, I'll write an epilogue chapter. ;)**


End file.
